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1914 
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American Dramatists Series 

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THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 



American Dramatists Series 

THE GIRL 
IN THE PICTURE 

A Play in Two Acts 
ALEXANDER WILSON SHAW 




BOSTON: THE GORHAM PRESS 

TORONTO: THE COPP CLARK CO.. LIMITED 



Copyright 191k, hy Alexander Wilson Shaw 
All rights reserved 






The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A. 

NOV 20 1914 

©CI.D 3885 4 



To my wife 

Henrietta Ridgway Shaw 

this little booh is 

affectionately dedicated 



THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 



THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

Act I 

Scene — Deacon Backslap's living-room. George^ 
son of the deacon, about thirty years of age, good- 
looking, well-groomed, is seated in a reclining chair, 
alone. 

Time — About Jive o'clock in the afternoon. 

George — I wonder what mother will say if 
she finds it out? Dashed if I would have thought 
it possible ! What in the world could have struck 
dad, anyway? Think of it: A deacon in the 
church! President of the Lily-white Society for 
the Suppression of Sin! A man who has been 
preaching and leading crusades against vice for 
months until the papers are full of it! Think of 
it! Think of a man like that coming home in a 
cab — dead drunk! And in broad day -light! I'd 
give a dollar to know where he got it. It's a 
lucky thing that I answered the bell. If mother's 
new maid had gone to the door, it would have 
been all over the town by this time. As it was, I 
had to carry him up to bed. I don't think anyone 
knows anything about it except the cabby. Let's 
see, {consulting his watch) he's been in bed now 
about six hours. I hope he sleeps it off before 
mother comes home. If he doesn't^ — woof! — I 
can see a few shattered idols around here! But 
it certainly is odd how things happen at the wrong 
5 



6 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

time. Here I've invited my fiancee and her 
mother to take dinner with us to-night for the 
express purpose of having them meet my parents, 
— and dad's in bed, drunk ! In the name of heaven 
if he wanted to get drunk why couldn't he have 
done it after seeing them? Er — that isn't ex- 
actly what I wanted to say, is it? At any rate, 
here I'd banked on this being a gala day! And 
Inez has been asking me so much about my 
parents and seemed so anxious to meet them, — 
she hasn't so much as laid eyes on either of them. 
And I've been praising dad's piety to the skies! 
Well, if the worst comes to the worst, I suppose 
I can keep dad in his room and say that hje isn't 
feeling well. But Inez and her mother may take 
that for a frost. Well, I suppose I'll have to 
make the best of it. After all, dad may be in 
shape by the time they arrive, who knows? 

{EnteTy from the rear, Angelina, the servant, an 
old Dutch woman, thin of face and body, with scant 
hair and long neck.) 

Angelina — Ach, eggscuse me ! 

George — (looking around) Eh? 

Angelina — Eggscuse me. I thought I heard 
talkings, and I thought she vas downstairs. 

George — Who ? Mother ? Mother hasn't 
come home yet. 

Angelina — Ach, no, no, not your mudder — 
your vatter. 

George — Oh, father's not feeling well, he's 
upstairs. 

Angelina — Yes, yes, I know, I saw her come 



ACT I 7 

in. Ach yes, I know. My husband used to get 
that way. Yes, yes, it's too bad — and she's such 
a nice man, too, — yes, she's such a nice man! 
And vat vill her vife say? She has such a nice 
vife! And she got along so good with her vife, — 
yes, she got along so good with her vife. 

George — "She got along so good with her 

vife?" What in the thunder ? (laughing) 

Say, what's it all about? 

Angelina — Ach, I know about it. Yes, yes, — ■ 
I saw you carry her upstairs. 

George — Saw me carry her upstairs? 

Angelina — ^Ach, yes, I saw her. Yes, yes, I 
saw her. But I keep my mouth shut. 

George — In the name of heaven, woman, ! 

Angelina — Ach, I not say nuddings, — ^for 
she's such a nice man, and she has such a nice vife. 

George — ^What in the ? Say, do you mean 

my father? 

Angelina — Yes, yes, your vatter. I saw her 
come home. But that's nuddings. She just had 
too much beer. That's nuddings, — my husband 
used to come home that way, — ^yes, yes, every 
night she vas that way; and she vas such a nice 
man, too; yes, yes, she vas such a nice man. But 
it didn't hurt her, no, the beer didn't hurt her. 
Ach, yes, she died. Till to-morrow it vill be ten 
years. But the beer didn't kill her, — she — she 
swallowed a cork. Ach, yes, she'd been drinking, 
— yes, yes, she'd been drinking, — but it vas the 
cork killed her. And she vas such a nice man, 
ach, she vas such a nice man ! 

George — (mocking) "Ach, she vas such a nice 
man, " — ^not another word, woman ! 



8 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

Angelina — Here's somedings she dropped in 
the hall when you vas carrying her upstairs. 
{Holds out kodak.) 

George — {taking kodak) Oh, that's dad's 
camera. Thank you. 

{George puts the kodak on the table. At this 
moment the bells rings.) 

George — There, that's probably mother, now, 
and — er — {as the servant starts to answer the bell) 
not a word to mother about father, do you hear? 
— not a word, do you understand? 

Angelina — Ach, yes, I vouldn't tell her vife, 
no, no, I'll not tell her vife, — not me. 

{Exit servant. Enter Mrs. Backslap, a plain, 
fussy y middle-aged, managing woman.) 

George — ^Hello, mother, where've you been 
so long? 

Mrs. Backslap — {sitting down) Oh, I've been 
gadding about. I promised to meet your father 
at Mr. Paynter's studio, but I was a little late, 
and when I arrived he had gone; and then I fell 
in with some club women and they took me out 
to lunch, and I've been shopping and making calls 
ever since. By the way, has your father come 
home? 

George — Oh, yes, he came home some time ago. 

Mrs. Backslap — Where is he, upstairs? 

George — I think so. 

Mrs. Backslap — {rising) I'll go up, then. I 



ACT I 9 

want to see him a moment. {Starts toward side 
exit.) 

George — Er — -mother ! 

Mrs. Backslap — {pausing) Yes? 

George — ^I wouldn't — ^r — disturb him just 
now. He's lying down, I think. 

Mrs. Backslap — ^Lying down? He isn't sick, 
is he? 

George — -Oh, no, — -er — ^not really sick, just 
a — a — ^headache. He'll be down in a little while. 
I wouldn't disturb him just yet if I were you. 

Mrs. Backslap — You're sure he's i;iot really 
sick? 

George — Oh, no, he's not sick. 

Mrs. Backslap — -Very well, I won't disturb 
him. But — cr — ^really, you surprise me, I never 
knew you to have so much consideration for your 
father before. 

George — {smiling) Well, — er — -you see, Inez 
and her mother are coming to dinner, you know, 
and I — er — ^suppose I wanted everything to be 
real nice, myseK included. 

Mrs. Backslap — {smiling) So you're prac- 
tising, eh? Well, it won't do you any harm. 
But you'd better be running along if you're going 
to dress for dinner. 

George — I suppose I'd better, — and — a — • 
mother, — -you're going to like Inez, aren't you? 

Mrs. Backslap — -Why, of course I am, George. 
If she's only hah as nice as you say she is, I know 
I shall like her. 

{Mrs. Backslap removes her hat and goes to the 



10 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

hat-rack in the hall, visible through the door-way 
at the rear, to hang it up.) 

George — {consulting his watch) (aside) It*s 
a little early to dress, but I think I'll see how dad's 
coming on. 

(Exit George.) 

Mrs. Backslap — (re-entering the room from the 
hall, sits down near the table and picks up the 
kodak) I wonder if the film has all been used? 
Josiah's certainly got the craze and got it badly. 
He simply keeps me busy developing pictures for 
him. (Examines the camera.) Yes, as I thought, 
all of the film has been used. And I suppose it 
is now up to me to develop it. He's just like a 
child with a new toy. After he takes a picture 
he can hardly wait until it's developed and printed. 
But he's just like all the men, — he doesn't mind 
snapping the camera, but when it comes to the 
real work, well, I do all of that. Josiah never 
could learn to develop pictures. I wonder if I 
really ought to bother with this before dinner .^^ — 
I believe I will, it won't take long and it may be 
a pleasant little surprise for Josiah. He might 
like to show the pictures to Mrs. Blair and her 
daughter. I'll see what I can do wdth them, 
anyway. (Here Mrs. Backslap takes the film 
from the camera, and, going to the rear of the room, 
toward one side, where there is a shelf containing 
bottles, and a small table on which there are develop- 
ing trays and a kodak developing-machine, inserts 
the film in the machine, pours in the developing 



ACT I 11 

solution from one of the bottles, puts the lid on the 
machine and turns the crank slowly.) I wonder 
what kind of pictures Josiah took this morning? 
Lately he has been taking nothing but churches. 
I beheve he has a picture of every church in the 
town by this time. (Pours water in one tray and 
fixing solution in another tray. Takes film from 
the machine and washes it in the water, then passes 
it through the fixing solution, and again washes it 
in the water, changing the water several times, then 
holds the film up to the light and takes a hurried 
glance at it.) Ah, just as I thought, — more 
churches! I didn't think there were any in the 
town that he hadn't aheady taken. If there 
ever was a pious man! (Bell rings.) I wonder 
who that can be? It's hardly time for Mrs. Blair 
and her daughter. Well, this is done anyway, — 
thank goodness — and I'll hang it up to dry. 
(Hangs film up by clips to dry against the wall.) 

(Enter Angelina.) 

Angelina — Some womens to see you, Mrs. 
Slapback. 

Mrs. Backslap — Slapback indeed ! My name, 
Angelina, is Backslap, Backslap! Do you hear? 
Back-slap. 

Angelina — Ach, yes, your Back's in front. 
Say not? 

Mrs. Backslap — My back's where? — But who 
are the ladies, Angelina? 

Angelina — ^They didn't tell me their names, 
but they said they vas members of some sinful 
society. 



12 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

Mrs. Backslap— Some sinful society? 

Angelina— Yes, yes, I vouldn't have thought 
it, and they said you vould know them because 
you vas a member, too. 

Mrs. BACKSJ.A^—ilaughing) Oh, I suppose 
they are members of the Lily-white Society for 
the Suppression of Sin. Show them right in, 
Angelina. 

{ExU servant Enter four middle-aged, sour, 
sharp-visaged women, members of the society above 
named.) 

^ Mrs. Backslap — Oh, how do you do, ladies, 
I'm awfully glad to see you. {Shakes hands with 
them.) Won't you sit down.? 

(The ladies take seats.) 

Mrs. Brown— We just dropped in for a few 
minutes to tell you how we were getting along. 
The Committee is all here, and we thought we'd 
make a report, as it were, and you could tell the 
deacon about it. 

Mrs. Backslap— Good. What kind of a 
crusade did you wage to-day? 

Mrs. Green — An anti-indecent poster crusade. 
It is just too outrageous for anything the way 
some things are being advertised, particularly 
shows at the theatre. Some of the posters are 
positively shocking. 

Mrs. Black — We've got the names of a hundred 
people who are displa^dng indecent posters on 
their walls, and your husband can hand them in to 



ACT I 13 

the mayor, who will probably pay more attention 
to him than to us, judging by the way we were 
treated to-day everywhere we entered a complaint. 
It was positively maddening the way we were 
treated, — ^why the people just laughed at us. 
They seemed to think it a joke. But just wait, — 
the Lily-white Society for the Suppression of 
Sin will show them a thing or two! Mrs. Brown, 
tell Mrs. Backslap how you were treated at the 
Star Theatre. 

Mrs. Brown — Oh, Mrs. Backslap, I could 
have chewed that man's head off! I'll tell you 
how it was : We found one of the most indecent 
posters of all on the bill-board in front of the Star 
Theatre, — sl picture of a woman — a. dancer — ^in 
decidedly scant attire — 'oh, it was dreadful ! Well, 
I went in and told the man in the box-office just 
what I thought of it, and he smiled and said he 
was sorry if I didn't like the clothes the lady had 
on, — think of it, what she had on ! — and he handed 
me a pot of blue paint, and said I might alter the 
lady's apparel if I chose. Well, I just jumped at 
the chance, and I took the paint and started in 
to put a skirt on the picture of that brazen hussy, 
and by the time I had finished, there was a crowd 
of a thousand people around me. And when I 
returned the paint, what do you think that in- 
sulting ticket-seller said to me? 

Mrs. Backslap — ^What did he say? 

Mrs. Brown — He said, " Madam, you did very 
well. You certainly made a hit. Come around 
every afternoon and do your little stunt and we'll 
put you on a salary. We're in the amusement 



14 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

business, you know." And I was that mad, I 
could have smacked him in the face! 

Mrs. Backslap — The impudent thing! My 
husband will settle him. 

Mrs. Green — That's just what I was telling 
the ladies. It takes a real good man, like the 
deacon, to handle people of that sort. And what 
a good, good man your husband is! 

Mrs. Backslap — Josiah is a dear, good man. 
Why his soul fairly writhes when he passes one of 
those theatrical posters on the street. 

Mrs. Black — I passed him early this morning — 
and he surely is a good man — he was taking a 
picture of St. John's Church with his kodak. 

Mrs. Backslap — He seems to have a craze for 
taking churches. By the way, I have just de- 
veloped the pictures he took this morning. 
Would you like to see them? 

Mrs. Black, Brown, Green and Gray — 
{in chorus) Oh, yes indeed ! 

Mrs. Backslap — I haven't printed them yet, 
but I'll make use of a contrivance of my husband's 
for showing the pictures, much enlarged, on a 
screen, using the film only. The deacon is quite 
an inventor in his way, he made the apparatus 
himself. I'll show you how it works. 

{Mrs. Backslap drags from a closet a wooden 
frame about 8 feet high by 6 feet wide, covered with 
white canvas and mounted on feet, so that it can stand 
erect. This screen she places toward the back of the 
room and to the left of the middle. Then she brings 
from the closet what looks like a magic-lantern, 
mounted on a stand about J/- feet in height, and places 



ACT I 15 

this about 15 feet away from the screen and nearly 
in front of it. Then she gets the film from the wall 
where it had been hung to dry.) 

Mrs. Backslap — {holding up the film) Now, 
ladies, this is the film. All I have to do is to in- 
sert it in the machine, which is just like a magic- 
lantern, {inserts the film) so, and press a little 
button which turns on the light, so, and there you 
have the first picture, — St. John's Church. 

Mrs. Brown — Oh, isn't that too clever for 
anything ! 

Mrs. Backslap — Now, all I have to do is to 
turn a crank, and there we have the next picture, 
— St. Timothy's Church. 

Mrs. Green — Isn't that nice! 

Mrs. Backslap — {turning the crank again) 
The next picture is, — the Church of the Good 
Shepherd. 

Mrs. Gray — It just goes to show what a good, 
good man the deacon is. 

Mrs. Black — Indeed it does. 

Mrs. Backslap — {turning crank) The fourth 
picture is, — the Church of St. Anthony. 

Mrs. Brown — ^Doesn't it look natural? 

Mrs. Backslap — {turning crank) The fifth 
picture is, — the Synagogue of Israel. 

Mrs. Green — ^Do you know, I believe a man's 
character can be told by the pictures he takes? 

Mrs. Gray — Oh, undoubtedly. It is certainly 
proved in this case. What a good, good man Mr. 
Backslap is. Everything he does shows it. 

Mrs. Brown — He's one man in a million. Oh, 
what a good, good man he is ! 



16 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

Mrs. Backslap — {turning crank) The sixth, 
and last, picture, ladies, is, — For heaven's sake! 

(Mrs. Backslap screams and staggers hack, for the 
picture thrown on the screen is the full length photo- 
graph of a beautiful young woman, whose superb 
figure is almost without raiment, being very scantily 
draped. Mrs. Brown, Green, Black and Gray leap 
to their feet and scream also.) 

Mrs. Backslap — Can I believe my eyes.?^ Is 
that the photograph of a woman? Or am I 
dreaming? Tell me, am I dreaming? 

Mrs. Black — I'm afraid not, Mrs. Backslap. 

Mrs. Backslap — Oh, it's a woman, it surely 
is! And her dress, tell me, how is she dressed? 

Mrs. Green — There isn't much to describe. 

Mrs. Backslap — Then I am awake ! Oh, there 
must be some mistake! 

Mrs. Black, Green and Gray — There surely 
must! There surely must! 

Mrs. Brown — Examine the film, Mrs. Backslap. 
Are you sure it's on the film? 

Mrs. Backslap — I can tell that in a minute. 
(Takes film out of the magic-lantern, turns off the 
light, and, holding film up, studies it a moment.) 
Yes, it's on the film, there's no doubt about it. 

Mrs. Green — Are you sure it came from your 
husband's camera? 

Mrs. Backslap — I took it out with my own 
hands not a haK hour ago and developed it im- 
mediately. But to make sure, I'll look at the 
camera. (Examines the camera) It's only too 
true, it's my husband's camera, here are his initials 



ACT I 17 

on the bottom. {There is a significant silence for 
a moment, during which Mrs, Backslap*s face be- 
comes set and harsh.) Oh, Josiah! Who would 
have thought you so base! Oh, you deceiver! 

Mrs. Gray — Oh, Mrs. Backslap ! I am shocked, 
shocked beyond words! 

Mrs. Brown — Can it be possible that all men 
are alike? 

Mrs. Green — Do you know I never would 
have thought it! He's the last man on earth I 
would have accused of leading a double life. 

Mrs. Black — ^And to think how he ha^ been 
preaching against vice all of this time! Oh, Mrs. 
Backslap, what poor, confiding things we women 
are! 

Mrs. Green — Bring the film over to the win- 
dow, Mrs. Backslap, and let us get a good look at 
the hussy, — she's no doubt a creature of the under- 
world! 

Mrs. Gray, Black and Brown — Oh, without 
doubt! 

{The five women go over to the window to examine 
the film. Enter Deacon Backslap, mournfully, 
with a handkerchief tied around his head. The 
deacon is a man of about fifty-five years, tall, 
slender, with a pale, thin, sanctimonious face^ 
gray goatee, and fringe of gray hair encircling a 
large bald spot, and in dress resembles a minister. 
He does not notice the women by the window, and 
they do not notice him.) 

Deacon Backslap — {mournfully) Oh, this 



18 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

head! this head! It feels like a fat whale. And 
ache — ! 

Mrs. Green — Oh, the monster, there he i3! 

{The five women scream. The deacon starts, and, 
seeing the women, looks guilty and hacks away Jrom 
them.) 

Mrs. Backslap — Oh, you hypocrite! 

Mrs. Brown — Oh, you dreadful man, go 
away ! go away ! 

Mrs. Gray — You villain, how dare you face 
us? 

Mrs. Black — ^Oh, you scoundrel, go away, go 
away! 

Deacon Backslap — {aside) In the name of 
Jehovah! Did they all see me come home.'^ 
What an old fool I am! What can I possibly say.? 
{addressing his wife) What in the world is the 
matter, dear.? Really, you mustn't blame me, 
you see 

Mrs. Backslap — Silence sir! How dare you 
offer an excuse.? You old double-faced scoundrel! 
You hypocrite! Leave him to me, ladies, leave 
us alone for a moment, so that I can tell him what 
I think of him! 

{Exit the Crusaders, muttering expressions such 
as, ''Give it to him good.'* ''Dont spare him, the 
villain," etc.) 

Mrs. Backslap — {glaring at her husband with 
the film clutched in her hand) Now, Josiah Back- 
slap, what have you got to say for yourself.? 



ACT I 19 

Deacon Backslap — {weakly) Now, my dear 

Mrs. Backslap — Silence, sir! Silence! How 
dare you say one word to me ! You infidel ! You 
libertine ! 

Deacon Backslap — ^Infidel? Libertine? 

Mrs. Backslap — Silence! And I trusted you 
all of these years ! And I thought you one of the 
best of men, — fool that I was! And what do I 
find to-day .f^ I find you the contemptible cur 
that you are ! — a shameful, base deceiver ! 

Deacon Backslap — In the name of Jehovah, 
my dear, ! 

Mrs. Backslap — ^Don't you call me "dear!" 

Deacon Backslap — ^In the name of Jehovah, 
Mirandy — — ! 

Mrs. Backslap — Don't you dare call me 
"Mirandy!" 

Deacon Backslap — ^But — er — Mrs. Backslap — 

Mrs. Backslap — ^How dare you call me Mrs. 
Backslap ! I'm ashamed of the name. 

Deacon Backslap — {wheedling) Oh, come, 
come, now, don't go on so about it, — ^don't make 
such a fuss. You see, — er — of course I was 
wrong — er — weak, if you like, but — er — it wasn't 
intentional. I was just — er — persuaded to join 
in with — er — well, a rather merry group of — er — • 
acquaintances, and — er — before I knew it — ^I — • 
er — well, really — after all, what I did — er — 
thousands of men do every day — ^and — it is such 
a little thing, you know, such a little thing to 
make a fuss about! 

Mrs. Backslap — {fairly screaming) You mon- 
ster! You perverted degenerate! It was a little 
thing, was it? — You, a married man! You, a 



20 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

gray-haired father! A deacon in the church! 
It was a httle thing, was it? You lascivious 
wretch ! 

Deacon Backslap — {astonished) Lascivious 
wretch? 

Mrs. Backslap — Yes, and worse! I have the 
proof right here. (Shakes the film under the dea- 
con s nose.) I suppose you won't deny that this 
is your film — a film which I took from your camera 
and developed myself.? Answer me a few ques- 
tions, please. What pictures did you take this 
morning.? 

Deacon Backslap — Pictures.? What have they 
to do with it.? 

Mrs. Backslap — (stamping her foot) Answer 
me, I say! 

Deacon Backslap — Why, I took — er — let me 
see — the Church of St. John, St. Timothy's 
Church, — er — the Church of the Good Shepherd, 
— er — St. Anthony's Church, and, — er — the Syna- 
gogue of Israel. 

Mrs. Backslap — Exactly. There's no doubt 
about this film being yours ! Now I'll show it to 
you. (Inserts the film in the magic-lantern and 
shows the pictures of the five churches rapidly.) 
Now, Josiah Backslap, those are the first five 
pictures that you took. What is the subject of 
the sixth one? 

Deacon Backslap — (scratching his head) I — 
er — can't remember taking any other. 

Mrs. Backslap — (sarcastically) No, I suppose 
not ! Let me refresh your memory. (Flashes the 
sixth picture on the screen) There it is! 



ACT I 21 

Deacon Backslap — {throwing up his hands) 
In the name of the Lord! 

(The deacon staggers back and nearly faints.) 

Mrs. Backslap — {sarcastically) It was a very 
Uttle thing to get a creature of the imder-world to 
pose for you hke that, {pointing to the picture) 
wasn't it? A very httle thing, indeed! 

Deacon Backslap — {aside) Great God! 
Could it be possible that when I was drunk — 
{aloud) Oh, there must be some mistake ! 

Mrs. Backslap — No, there is no mistake! 
You have been leading a double life ! {Bursts into 
tears and strides toward rear door) Oh, you de- 
ceitful, loathsome thing! You villainous wretch! 
I'll get a divorce! I'll get a divorce! 

{Mrs. Backslap rushes from the room, crying.) 

Deacon Backslap — {in despair) In the name 
of the seven devils! Was ever a man in a pickle 
like this? And I'm the President of the Lily- 
white Society for the Suppression of Sin! And a 
leader of crusades against vice! Good Lord! — 
Oh, my head, my head ! — ^I thought getting drunk 
was bad enough, but this is worse, infinitely worse ! 
Where could I have been? I remember going to 
Mr. Paynter's studio this morning to arrange to 
have Mirandy's portrait painted, and while I was 
there I met some people who invited me to join 
them in a glass of wine, and they insisted and 
pestered me until I just had to take it to be 
sociable. And then nothing would do but I must 



22 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

take another. And then things began to get 
hazy, and after that — it's all a blank, all a blank. 
But where did I get the picture of that woman? 
I had my kodak with me, I know, for I had been 
taking pictures earlier in the morning, but I don't 
remember taking the picture of any woman. But 
where did I go after leaving the studio.^ Let me 
think, {scratches his head) It's no use, it's no 
use, I can't remember. Could it be possible that 

I went elsewhere and met ? No, no, I can't 

believe it ! But there's no telling what a man will 
do when he's drunk. But let me see, — wasn't 
there some women in the studio.^ Ha, ha, by 
George there were! And it seems to me that 
one of them was making love to me, or was I 
making love to her.^ What an old fool I am! 
Could it be possible that it was one of those 

women whose picture ? Oh, Lord! And I'm 

at the head of the Lily-white Society for the Sup- 
pression of Sin ! Oh, if I could only suppress this ! 
But how can I.^^ — Too many women know about 
it. And my wife threatens to get a divorce! 
Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! 

{Here the deacon throws himself in a chair and 
rests his head in his hands. Angelina enters, with- 
out noticing him, and stops amazed before the picture 
of the scantily draped woman on the screen.) 

Angelina — {holding up her hands in astonish- 
ment) Ach, my! I didn't see that ven I vas 
in here before! And I didn't see anybody bring 
it in! No, no, I didn't! I did not! How did 
it get here? {Deacon Backslap turns his head to 



ACT I 23 

see who is talking and Angelina sees him) Ach, 
eggscuse me! 

Deacon Backslap — Heavens ! 



{The deacon leaps up and turns off the light of the 
magic-lantern and the picture vanishes.) 

Angelina — ^Ach, it's a magic-lantern picture! 
Yes, yes, that's vat it is! Ach, I like magic- 
lanterns ! Have you got any more pictures like 
tliat one? 

Deacon Backslap — ^Like that one? For good- 
ness sake, woman, don't suggest such a thing! 

Angelina — Ach, go ahead and show them. 
You needn't mind me. I von't look. 

(Angelina turns her back to the screen and simpers.) 

Deacon Backslap — Oh, this is too much, too 
much! Out of my sight, woman! 

{The bell rings.) 

Angelina — ^There's that old bell again. 

{Exit servant.) 

Deacon Backslap — If this isn't the irony of 
Fate! Here I am, a man who never touched 
liquor before. I take a little for the first time, 
and then, like a fool, I go and do something 
positively indecent. Why, men who get drunk 
every day wouldn't think of doing such a thing! 
All of which goes to show that if I'd been used to 



24 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

getting drunk, I'd not be in the pickle I'm in. 
Oh, why didn't I get drunk before? Why didn't 
I get drunk before? 

(Exit the deacon, to the left. Enter Max Paynter, 
Bob Scribbleton and Angelina, from the rear. Mr. 
Paynter is an artist, about forty years old, dark, 
entirely bald and has a waxed mustache; his friend, 
Mr. Scribbleton, is much younger, more handsome, 
and has a joyous, breezy disposition.) 

Scribbleton — {to the servant) Don't make a 
mistake now, please, it's Mr. Backslap we want to 
see. 

Angelina — Ach, yes, I know, I know. She vas 
in here a minute ago. I'll get her. 

Paynter — No, no, not Mrs. Backslap, Mr. 
Backslap. 

Angelina — Ach, yes, I know, I know, I'll get 
her. 

Scribbleton — Stop, please! We want to see 
the old gentleman, — Mr. Backslap. 

Angelina — Veil, if you'll gif me a chance, 
once, I'll go and tell her. Vat names, please? 

Paynter — (to Scribbleton) Oh, this will never 
do ! We don't want to meet Mrs. Backslap of all 
persons! Say Bob, why not just inquire about 
the old gentleman? That's all we came for, you 
know. 

Scribbleton — Sure, go ahead. Perhaps the 
maid can tell us. 

Paynter — ^That's what I meant. (Turns to 
Angelina) Ah, pardon me, but did you see Mr. 



ACT I 25 

Backslap when he came home this morning? 

Angelina — Yes, yes, ach, yes. 

Paynter — ^Did he get home — er — safe? 

Angelina — (smiling broadly) Ach, I think 
she's still living. 

Paynter — Shes still living? To whom are 
you referring? I was inquiring about the old 
gentleman, the deacon. Do you understand? — 
the deacon. 

Angelina — ^Ach, yes, I know, I know. 

ScRiBBLETON — -Well, did he get home all right? 
Tell us how he was when he got home. 

Angelina — Ach, I don't know nuddings. / 
know when to shut my mouth. 

ScRiBBLETON — Oh, you do? Then you must 
know a good deal more than most people. Say, 
here's a little trifle for you, (hands Angelina a 
small coin) perhaps you may want to buy a 
sticking-plaster or some other confection, — you 
see — er — ^the fact is, we're friends of the old 
gentleman, and we were with him this morning, 
and we're rather anxious to know what happened 
to him after we put him in the cab. Did he get 
home all right? And is he all right now, or is he 
— er — sick? 

Angelina — (smiling as she pockets the money) 
Ach, yes, she vas seek! He, he, he! Ach, vat a 
funny sight it vas ven the son opened the door 
and she fell drunk on the floor, — -he, he, he ! 

Paynter — She fell on the floor? 

Angelina — ^Ach, yes, she came home drunk 
in a cab, and she had to be carried upstairs. 

ScRiBBLETON — She? Good heavens, is Mrs. 
Backslap a booze-heister, too? 



26 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

Paynter— I never would have thought it! 

Angelina — I never, no, I never ! 

ScRiBBLETON— See here, my good woman, you 
oughtn't to tell us all that. We 

Angelina— Why, you asked me, didn't you? 

ScRiBBLETON — No, uo, womau 

Angelina— Vat for, then, did you give me the 
money? 

SCRIBBLETON— We Wanted to know about the 
old gentleman. 

Angelina — Veil, vasn't I telling you? 

Paynter — Oh, this is most exasperating! 

SCRIBBLETON — Come, come, my dear woman, 
won't you please try to understand? I'll make 
it very simple. Now in the first place, you know 
Deacon Backslap, don't you? 

Angelina — Ach, yes, I know her good. 

SCRIBBLETON— You loiow her? In heaven's 
name, is the deacon a woman? 

Angelina — Ach, no, she's no woman. 

SCRIBBLETON— (ga;a5^era^ec?) She's no woman? 

Angelina — No, no, she's such a nice man, ach, 
she's such a nice man. 

SCRIBBLETON— (^/iroiz^m^r up his hands in still 
greater exasperation) She's such a nice man? 
For the love of heaven! Really, I don't believe 
the woman knows the difference between a hobble- 
skirt and a pair of trousers! 

(The servant giggles and hides her face in her 
apron, and then makes her escape when George 
Backslap, Inez Blair and her mother enter. Inez 
is a beautiful young woman, with yellow hair, a 



ACT I 27 

superb figure and a refined, spirituelle face. Mrs. 
Blair is dignified and fashionable.) 

George Blackslap — Come in and sit down, 
mother's about here somewhere. 

Paynter — {recognizing Miss Blair, strides for- 
ward) Why, how do you do. Miss Blair! 

Miss Blair — Mr. Paynter! How are you.^^ 
This is SL surprise. 

Scribbleton — {coming forward) How do you 
do. Miss Blair. 

Miss Blair — How do you do. Mother, allow 
me to present Mr. Paynter, the artist, and Mr. — • 
er — really — er — ^your name has escaped me. 

Scribbleton — Scribbleton, Scribbleton. 

Miss Blair — Oh, yes, Mr. Scribbleton. 

Mrs. Blair — I'm pleased to meet you. 

George — What's the matter, Inez, have you 
forgotten me? 

Miss Blair — I don't understand. 

George — You haven't introduced me. 

Miss Blair — Oh, don't you know the gentle- 
men .^^ Why George, how funny! Gentlemen, 
this is Mr. Backslap. 

{The men shake hands.) 

George — Won't you sit down? 

Paynter — No, thank you, we're in a sort of 
hurry, you know. 

George — Did you wish to see my father .^^ 

Scribbleton — {embarrassed) Oh, no, — that is 
— er — not exactly 



28 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

George— Is there anything that I can do for 
you? 

ScRiBBLETON — ^Oh, no, thank you. We just 
dropped in to — ah — ^well you see I just came along 
with Mr. Paynter. Max, tell Mr. Backslap what 
you came for. 

Paynter — (embarrassed) Why the idea! It 
was you who suggested calling. I really came 
with you, you know. 

ScRiBBLETON — ^The dcucc you did! Oh — ah — 
of course — of course. But it was on your account 
that we came, — and then you're so much the 
better talker! Go ahead and tell Mr. Backslap 
what you came for. 

FAYNTER-~{aside) The nerve of it! (aloud) 
Er — you see we came to — er — er — do you know 
my memory is getting very bad? What the deuce 
was it. Bob, we came for, anyway? 

ScRiBBLETON — Why you wanted to see about 
— er — oh, don't you know? — the — er — why the 
portrait you're going to paint of Mrs. Backslap. 

Paynter — Oh, of course, of course! Funny I 
couldn't think of it! Yes, yes, I wanted to know 
about the — er — about the ■ 

ScRiBBLETON — Costumc, costumc. 

Paynter — Oh, yes, about the costume! Mrs. 
Backslap is to give me a sitting to-morrow, and I — • 
er — wished to suggest to her how she should dress. 

ScRiBBLETON — (aside) As a liar, he needn't 
envy me! 

George — That was very kind of you, Mr. 
Paynter, I'm sure mother will appreciate it very 
much. She's just got her heart set on that por- 



ACT I 29 

trait. Suppose you come along with us, — we're 
in search of mother ourselves. 

Paynter — Thank you. 

Miss Blair — Won't you come too, Mr. Scrib- 
bleton.f^ 

ScRiBBLETON — -No, thank you, I'll just wait 
here. 

Miss Blair — Oh, very well. 

(Exit Mrs. Blair, Inez, George and Paynter.) 

ScRiBBLETON — (to Mmself) By golly, that girl's 
the perfect image of a picture that Max is painting 
for the Paris Salon! — a full length picture of a 
beautiful, golden-haired girl, attired in a — attired 
in a — well — -with very, very little attire! Could 
it be possible that Miss Blair posed for it? — she 
goes to Max's studio regularly. I wouldn't have 
believed it! Still, one can never tell how people 
view those things ! That little girl of mine, Jean- 
nette, doesn't think anything of posing like that, 
and she's a good little girl, too. But it's funny 
about that picture, — Max keeps it covered up. I 
wonder why he makes a mystery of it.^^ Could he 
be using Miss Blair as a model for it without 
her knowledge .f^ I wonder! At any rate, there's 
something very, very strange about it, for he 
wouldn't let even me see it. But you bet I saw 
it all right! When Max was out of the studio 
this morning I not only took a look at it, but I 
took a picture of it with my kodak, too. If Max 
knew it he would have a fit ! But it's funny about 
that snap-shot, — when I developed the film there 
wasn't a thing on it! I never had that happen 



30 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

to me before. (Spies the kodak on the table and 
picks It up) Hello! The deacon's kodak, I 
suppose? Doubtless the one he had with him 
this morning. Why, it's exactly like mine' 
Heavens! could I have gotten hold of the deacon's 
camera by mistake when I photographed Max's 
pamtmg.? Maybe that's why my film was blank! 
Holy Murphy, wouldn't that be a joke on the 
deacon! (Laughs and slaps his leg). 

(Enter Miss Blair.) 

Miss Blair— Oh, pardon me, am I interrupting 
a soliloquy.? 

ScRiBBLETON— (/a?/f7?^ down the camera) Oh, 
no, not at all. I was just wondering about you. 

Miss Blair— About me? 

ScRiBBLETON— Yes. I'm a bit curious about 
somethmg. Would you— er— would you mind 
remo\ing your hat.? 

Miss Blair— Why, the idea! 

ScRiBBLETON— I'm awiully curious, I know. 
Please! 

(Miss Blair removes her hat.) 

ScRiBBLETON— There! I Imew it! I knew it! 
The very girl! Er— pardon me, I was just veri- 
fymg something. Tell me, are you--er— are you 
an artist's model? 

Miss Blair— An artist's model? Why, how 
dare you! 

SCRIBBLETON — Pardou me, pardon me, I didn't 
wish to offend, but your face is so exactly like a 
painting, a— a— paint— a— I mean — er 

Miss Blair — Oh, I suppose you saw my por- 



ACT I 31 

trait. I am having Mr. Paynter do it for me and 
I sit for it nearly every morning. 

ScRiBBLETON — Your portrait? 

Miss Blair — (putting on her hat) Yes, surely, 
my portrait. 

ScRiBBLETON — Er — would you mind telling me 
where you are going to hang it.f^ 

Miss Blair — Why, mamma said she would 
hang it in the parlor. 

ScRiBBLETON — Your mother said so! Well I'll 
be ! But then nothing that society does sur- 
prises me any more! And why should it.'^ If 
society can stand for the "Turkey Trot," I sup- 
pose it can stand for your portrait. 

Miss Blair — Sir ! How dare you ! 

ScRiBBLETON — Oh, pardon me, no offence in- 
tended, none intended, I assure you. But — er 
— say, perhaps you and I — perhaps you and I 
are not talking about the same thing! Tell me, 
is your portrait — er — is your portrait — full length .^^ 

Miss Blair — No, indeed, just the head and 
shoulders. 

ScRiBBLETON — Oh, just the head and shoulders ! 
Oh-h! Then I don't believe I've ever seen your 
portrait. By the way, I'm awfully sorry about 
what happened to you in the studio this morning; 
I had no idea the deacon would act the way he did. 

Miss Blair — The deacon.? Was that old 
drunken reprobate a deacon? 

ScRiBBLETON — (surprised) Why, don't you 
know him.f^ 

Miss Blair — I wasn't introduced to him, I'm 
thankful to say, and I'd never seen him before. 

ScRiBBLETON — Is that so! (laughs) Excuse 



32 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

me, but it certainly is funny that you don't know 
him. 

Miss Blair — I don't see anything funny about 
it. What was he doing in the studio.'^ 

ScRiBBLETON — Why, he came to see Mr. Payn- 
ter about — er — about a portrait. He's a great 
reformer, you know, leads crusades against vice, 
and all that sort of thing, and Jeannette and I — 
Jeannette's Mr. Paynter's model, you know — 
Jeannette and I thought we'd have a little fun 
with him, and so we invited him to have some 
wine with us. It took a lot of coaxing, but we 
finally induced him to take a glass, and a mighty 
strong drink it was, too, and after a little more 
coaxing, he took another, and by the time you 
came in, he was just beginning to imagine himseK 
the King of the Cannibal Islands. 

Miss Blair — ^When I came in he seemed to be 
making love to the young lady. 

ScRiBBLETON — (laughing) Maybe that wasn't 
fun for Jeannette! 

Miss Blair — It may have been fun for her, but 
when you left the room and he began paying atten- 
tion to me, it wasn't funny a bit. Do you know 
what he did.? He picked up a photograph of me 
and kissed it repeatedly and said it was a picture 
of his sweetheart, and when I demanded my 
photograph, he put it in his pocket and called me 
his "Baby," and offered me a glass of wine. I 
was that mad I threw the wine in his face and 
flounced myseff out of the studio. 

ScRiBBLETON — Jeannette told me about it 
when I came back. But tell me, how did your 
photograph happen to be in the studio? 



ACT I 33 

Miss Blair— Why, I left it with Mr. Paynter 
to give him an idea of the pose I wanted for my 
portrait. 

ScRiBBLETON — Oh, I See. And, by the way, 
you didn't get your photograph back, did you? 

Miss Blair — No, I didn't. That old deacon, 
as you call him, walked off with it. 

ScRiBBLETON — No, he didn't walk off with it, 
exactly. Max and I loaded him in a cab and sent 
him home. 

Miss Blair — How disgraceful! What's his 
name, anyhow.? 

ScRiBBLETON — The dcacou's.? 

Miss Blair — ^Yes, the deacon's. 

SCRIBBLETON — Why — cr — really, Miss Blair, 
I don't believe I ought to tell you. You see — 
er — you see — — ■ 

{Enter Deacon Backslap) 

Miss Blair — Oh, there he is! Oh, you horrid 
thing ! 

Deacon Backslap — {drawing hack) {aside) 
Great Jehovah! The whole city knows it! 

Miss Blair — What are you doing here, sir.f^ 

Deacon Backslap — ^What am I doing here? 

Miss Blair — Are you following me around? 

Deacon Backslap — {astonished) Following 
you around? 

Miss Blair — Because if you are, George Back- 
slap will knock your old head off ! 

Deacon Backslap — ^What! George will! I'd 
like to see George Backslap raise his hand to me! 
I'd take him over my knee! 



34 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

Miss Blair— Don't you be so sure of that. At 
all events, I demand to know what you are doing 
here ! 

Deacon Backslap — Here? 

Miss Blair— Yes, here, — in this house. How 
did you get in and what is your business here? 

Deacon Backslap — Well, of all things ! 

ScRiBBLETON — Why, Miss Blair! Is it really 
possible you don't know to whom you are speak- 
ing? 

Miss Blair— Know him? Of course I do. 
He's the man who insulted me this morning. 

Deacon Backslap — {astonished) Insulted you? 
Why, madam, I never saw you before in my life! 

Miss Blair— Oh, how can you say that! 

Scribbleton — It's all too evident j^ou don't 
know each other very well. Pray allow me to 
introduce you. Miss Blair, this is Deacon 
Josiah Backslap. 

Miss Blair — {astonished) W^hat! Deacon 
Josiah Backslap? Oh, the i-dea\ {Laughs mer- 
rily and strides forward and extends her hand) I 
suppose in that case I shall have to forgive you' — 
for you see — your son — and I — are — er — engaged 
to be married. 

Deacon Backslap — {grasping her hand, heart- 
ily) Oh, then this is the Inez my son has been 
telling me so much about! I'm a^wfuUy glad to 
know you. And this gentleman, {indicating 
Scribbleton) I have a faint recollection of having 
seen before, but I can't place him. 

Miss Blair— That's Mr. Scribbleton. You 
were talking to both of us in Mr. Paynter's studio 
this morning. 



ACT I 35 

Deacon Backslap — (embarrassed) Is it pos- 
sible that I met you both in Mr. Paynter's studio 
this morning, and then didn't know either of you 
this afternoon? 

ScRiBBLETON — Oh, that's nothing. Nearly 
every man gets in that condition sometime. 

Miss Blair — (laughing) Perhaps your head- 
ache (the handkerchief is still around the deacon s 
head) has something to do with your loss of 
memory. 

Deacon Backslap — Eh? I'm afraid it has. 
I never had such a headache in my life. 

ScRiBBLETON — (poking the deacon in the ribs) 
Oh, you sly dog! (Laughs) 

Miss Blair — (nudging the deacon on the other 
side and laughing also) Oh, you gay deceiver! 

SCRIBBLETON — Isn't it remarkable what speed 
the old fellows show when they once get started? 

Miss Blair — It would seem so, judging by 
what I saw this morning in Mr. Paynter's studio. 

Deacon Backslap — Is it possible that I — er 
— did not — er — carry myseh properly while in 
the studio? 

ScRiBBLETON — Oh, you Carried yourself all 
right, — that is, up to a certain point, — after that, 
I carried you. 

Deacon Backslap — (embarrassed) Is it pos- 
sible ! 

ScRiBBLETON — All things are possible! — ^And 
now I'll leave you to the tender mercies of Miss 
Blair, and, if you will excuse me, I'll hunt up that 
reprobate artist friend of mine. Ta, ta, I'll see 
you later. (As he goes out the door, he pauses and 



36 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

winks) Oh,— you— sly-^ld— dog! (Laughs and 
disappears.) 

Deacon Backslap— It would seem from Mr. 
Scribbleton's remarks and yours, too, that I did 
something that I— that— er— perhaps I shouldn't 
have done. Tell me, is that so.?^ 

Miss Bi^iR--(smiling) I'm afraid it is. 
Deacon BACKSLAi^-Ah !— Er — did it happen 
in the studio.? ^^ 

Miss Blair— Of course it did. 
Deacon Backslap — I was afraid so. I re- 
member that I was-^r— persuaded to take a 
little more wine than was, perhaps, good for me. 
It's rather an humiliating admission to make, but 
-^r— well, you seem to be in possession of the 
facts! Well, let's say I was intoxicated. Now, 
then, is that what you and Mr. Scribbleton were 
joking me about? 

Miss Bi^m~{smiling again) Not altogether. 

Deacon Backslap— iVo^ altogether? Then I 

did something else? Tell me, please, what it was. 

Miss Blair— As if you didn't know! 

Deacon BACKSLAi--My dear Miss Blair, 

please tell me! Was it— ^r— anything— anything 

concerning a lady? 

Miss Blair— I should think it very much con- 
cerned a lady. 

Deacon Backslap— You don't say! 
Miss Blair— Now, really, don't you know, or 
are you so modest that you prefer that others 
would speak of your conquests? 
Deacon Backslap — Conquests? 
Miss Blair — (laughing) Oh, you rogue! 



ACT I 37 

Deacon Backslap — Please, Miss Blair, tell me 
what you mean. Please! 

Miss Blair — ^I'd rather not, some one — ^your 
wife — might hear me. 

Deacon Backslap — Oh, Lord ! Is it as bad as 
that .? What a fool a man can be ! 

Miss Blair — Especially if there's a woman in 
the picture. 

Deacon Backslap — {fairly screaming) What's 
that.f^ A woman in the picture? 

Miss Blair — Yes — in the picture — don't you 
understand? 

Deacon Backslap — ^Not exactly — that is — • 
I'm not entirely sure. Was I — er — ^mixed up in 
any way with a picture — a photograph.?^ 

Miss Blair — ^With a photograph.? Oh, yes, I 
believe you were. {Lauglis.) 

Deacon Backslap — Oh, I can't believe it! 

Miss Blair — {smiling) Oh, don't let that 
worry you. I have a very forgiving nature, you 
know, and, besides, it doesn't matter so much now, 
because, you know, I'm to be one of the family. 

Deacon Backslap — {scanning Inez intently 
for a moment, then apparently comprehending) 
Great heavens, can it be possible.? Your face! 
Your face! Oh, I can't believe it! 

Miss Blair — {alarmed) My face.? What is 
the matter with my face? 

Deacon Backslap — ^Oh, I can't believe it! 

Miss Blair — ^Tell me, what is the matter? 
What's wrong with my face? 

Deacon Backslap — Oh, don't be alarmed, 
your face is all right, but — ah — would you mind 
taking off yom* hat? 



38 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

Miss Blair — The idea! You're the second 
man to-day who has asked me to do that! It's 
getting to be a habit. 

{Miss Blair removes her hat. The deacon gazes 
at her for a full minute.) 

Deacon Backslap — I'm — almost — positive ! 
Can it be possible? {thinks a moment) Would 
you mind, Miss Blair, doing me another favor? 

Miss Blair — Of course not. What is it? 

Deacon Backslap — Just a moment. I'll show 
you. {The deacon takes a ^penknife from his pocket, 
and walks over to the white screen.) Do you see this 
screen? Well, I'm going to cut a hole in it like this. 
{Here he cuts a round hole in the canvas to the right 
of the middle of the screen, about ten inches in diame- 
ter, and about six feet from the floor.) Now, Miss 
Blair, kindly step back of the screen, step up on 
this stool and look through the hole. {Miss Blair 
does as requested.) There! Now look straight 
ahead and don't try to see anything on the screen. 
Do you understand? Don't look on the screen. 
Now, just a minute. ( The deacon goes to the magic- 
lantern, and adjusting it, flashes the picture of the 
scantily draped woman on the screen in such a way 
that the head of the pictured woman and the head of 
Miss Blair appear side by side. The deacon throws 
up his hands in dismay.) Oh, my God! It's 
the same, I sw^ear it's the same! 

Miss Blair — What's the same? 

Deacon Backslap — Your face! Your face! 

Miss Blair — Of course it's the same. You 
didn't expect it to change, did you? 



ACT I 39 

Deacon Backslap — Oh, don't trifle, don't 
bandy words at such a time ! 

Miss Blair — ^I hadn't thought of trifling. I'm 
sorry if my face hasn't changed enough to please 
you. 

Deacon Backslap — Oh, if it only would 
change ! 

Miss Blair — {screams) What! 

Deacon Backslap — {walks over near the screen) 
I mean — er — oh, I can't tell you what I mean. 
But would you — er — would you mind telling me 
something? I may seem rather curious, but 
really — er — 

Miss Blair— WeU? 

Deacon Backslap — ^You won't be offended, 
will you? 

Miss Blair — Oh, no, go ahead. 

Deacon Backslap — ^Well then, when you were 
in the studio this morning, may I ask what you 
wore.f^ 

Miss Blair — ^What I wore? What a question! 

Deacon Backslap — Oh, don't be offended. 
If — if it's embarrassing, j^ou needn't answer. 

Miss Blair — ^Embarrassing? Why, you actu- 
ally speak as if I should be ashamed of my clothes. 

Deacon Backslap — Oh, no, not at all, not at 
all. You needn't be a.shamed of clothes, oh, no, 
indeed, not of clothes — if there's enough of them. 

Miss Blair — ^Why, that's worse! Now you're 
insinuating that I have only a few clothes. I 
never 

Deacon Backslap — ^Oh, you don't under- 
stand — you don't understand. But tell me, 



40 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

please, — What did you wear in the studio this 
morning? 

Miss Blair — Oh, just a little, white, filmy 
thing 

Deacon Backslap — Good Lord! Oh, heavens, 
I'm undone! I'm undone! 

Miss Blair — Don't you want me to describe 
it? 

Deacon Backslap — Oh, never mind, never 
mind, you needn't say any more. I suppose it's 
all true. Oh, Lord, oh. Lord, what a mess I'm in, 
what a mess I'm in ! 

Miss Blair — I really can't understand what 
you're making so much fuss about. Why did 
you ask me to tell you what I wore? 

Deacon Backslap — I was hoping that you'd 
prove an alibi — but you didn't. Oh, I'm in for it, 
all right. 

Miss Blair — What a funny man! 

Deacon Backslap — and to think that you are 
engaged to my son\ Under the circumstances, 
miss, I think I ought to many you myself. 

Miss Blair — Oh, how nice if you only could! 

Deacon Backslap — What! Would you throw 
over George? Oh, you heartless woman! 

Miss Blair — Throw over George? I guess 
not! 

Deacon Backslap^ — Do you mean to say you'd 
marry us both? 

Miss Blair — What! Marry you both? I 
don't understand you at all! And why in the 
world do you wish me to stand on this stool and 
look through this hole? What's on the screen, 
anyway? 



ACT I 41 

Deacon Backslap — Now my dear young lady, 
don't look on the screen, please. Just a moment, 
now 

{Here Mrs. Backslap, followed by Mrs. Black, 
Green, Brown and Gray, enters from the right, and, 
catching sight of the picture on the screen, and of 
Miss Blair's face looking through the hole in the 
canvas, they all rush forward and set up a scream 
like an Indian war-whoop. The deacon seizes a 
cover from a table near by and tries to cover the 
picture of the draped woman from the neck, down. 
Miss Blair holds her ground on the stool.) 

Mrs. Backslap — (to her husband) Oh, you 
villam! I've caught you in the very act! How 
dare you brmg that hussy into this house? Oh, 
you contemptible wretch! 

(The deacon drops the table-cover, and, darting 
to the magic-lantern, turns off the light.) 

Miss Blair — (jumping off the stool, comes for- 
ward and addresses Mrs. Backslap) Why, what 
can you mean? What did you call me? 

Mrs. Backslap — ^How dare you speak to me? 
You low, brazen thing ! 

Deacon Backslap — Now my dear 

Mrs. Backslap — (stamping her foot) Silence, 
sir! How dare you take her part! 

Miss Blair — I don't understand. What have 
I done? (At this point George Backslap, Mrs. 
Blair, Paynter and Scribbleton enter. Inez catches 
sight of George.) Oh, George, what is the matter 



42 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

here? I was called a dreadful name. What have 
I done? 

George — (putting his arms abovt Miss Blair) 
My poor Httle darling! What is the trouble, 
mother? 

Mrs. Backslap— (/o George) Stand away from 
that woman! Don't touch her! How dare you! 

George — {still holding Inez) Why mother, 
this is my fiancee. Haven't you met jfier? 

Mrs. Backslap — Your fiancee? Miss Blair? 
Oh, this is terrible, this is terrible! Oh, my poor 
son! 

George— Why, what is the trouble, mother? 
What has she done? 

Mrs. Backslap— Ask your father what she 
did. Oh, it is dreadful, dreadful! 

George — Father, what is mother referring to? — 
Speak out, man, speak out ! 

Mrs. Blair — {who has hurried to her daughter's 
side) {indignantly) Yes, speak out ! What possible 
harm could my daughter have done? 

Deacon BACKSLAi^Oh, I'd rather not say 
anything. You see 

George— But you must! You must! Don't 
you see that by refusing to speak you make it 
appear that there is something to hide? Speak 
out, man, speak out. 

Deacon Backslaf— {reluctantly) Well, you 
see it was like this: I visited Mr. Paynter's 
studio this morning, and, while there, was — er — 
persuaded to take a little wine. Miss Blair 
arrived at the studio and — er — er — well, I — er — 
oh, I can't believe it! It simply isn't possible! 
Now see here, I'm going to settle this thing right 



ACT I 43 

now. {Turns to Miss Blair) Point blank, Miss 
Blair, point blank, face to face, when you were in 
the studio, did I take your picture? 

Miss Blair — (innocently) You certainly did 
take my picture. 

Mrs. Backslap — Oh, my God! 

{Mrs. Backslap throws up her hands and faints, 
being caught by her son. The four Crusaders utter 
screams and faint also, two into the arms of Paynter 
and two into the arms of Scribbleton.) 

Deacon Backslap — {fairly screaming) What! 
That picture? 

{The deacon presses the button and flashes the 
picture of the scantily draped woman on the screen. 
Miss Blair and her mother glance at the picture, 
utter one long, piercing scream and faint, falling 
against George, who holds up the three women with 
great difficulty.) 

Paynter — Oh, my God! Look! Look! The 
picture! The picture! Oh, I'm ruined, I'm 
ruined! 

{The artist drops, sprawling to the floor, the two 
women he is holding and rushes for the door, followed 
by Scribbleton, who drops the other two Crusaders. 
Deacon Backslap looks about him with an expression 
utterly woe-begone, throws up his hands and faints 
also, falling against the women who are being held 
up by his son, when the load, becoming too great for 
George, the whole bunch of them topple over to the 
floor.) 

(CURTAIN) 



Act II 

Time — The next day. 

Scene — Max Paynters studio. A couch, a 
small table and a number of chairs are disposed about 
the room. There is a sketch of a dancing-girl to the 
left of the entrance and one of a bathing-girl to the 
right; also various other finished and unfinished 
pictures adorn the walls. There is a large canvas 
in the centre of the foreground which is entirely 
covered by a green blanket. Mr. Paynter is seated 
at the table in an attitude of dejection, looking very 
glum indeed. After the curtain rises, Jeannette, a 
beautiful young artist's model of the bruriette type, 
enters jauntily, dressed in flesh-colored tights from 
neck to toe, scantily draped by a filmy red scarf. 
Paynter is so absorbed in thought that he does not 
notice her. 

Jeannette — {tapping Paynter on the shoulder) 
Hello, old man. 

Paynter — {starting up) Eh? {relieved) Oh, 
it's you, is it? 

Jeannette — Of course it is. Who did you 
think it was? 

Paynter — I thought it was the police. 

Jeannette — {laughing) You must have a bad 
conscience. 

Paynter — I'm afraid I have, for it didn't 
bother me at all until I was caught with the goods. 
44 



ACT n 45 

Jeannette — {smiling) What were you caught 
doing this time? 

Paynter — ^This time? Say, this is no joke. 
The fact is, I'm in a devil of a mes?. 

Jeannette — Oh, you poor boy! What's the 
trouble? Can you tell me? 

Paynter — It's all about that picture, {points 
to the canvas covered by the green blanket) the one I 
didn't want anyone to see. 

Jeannette — Well, nobody saw it, did they? 

Paynter — Oh, didn't they? Well, let me tell 
you something: Yesterday a photograph of it 
was thrown on a screen before an audience of a 
dozen people. 

Jeannette — ^A photograph of it? Impossible! 

Paynter — All the same, it's a fact. 

Jeannette — Who took the photograph? 

Paynter — ^That old sneak of a deacon who was 
in here yesterday. 

Jeannette — He did? Do you mean he photo- 
graphed it on the sly? 

Paynter — That's what he did. 

Jeannette — Why, isn't that strange? When 
could he have gotten the chance to do it? 

Paynter — Oh, he did it all right, for when I 
called on him in the afternoon, he had the effrontery 
to exhibit the picture in a magic-lantern to a whole 
roomful of people. I used Miss Blair's face, you 
know, as a model in painting the picture, though 
I never dared let her know it. Well, Miss Blair 
was in the room, and, to make matters worse, is 
engaged to the deacon's son, and w^hen she saw 
the picture, she fainted, and so did her mother and 
a lot of other women. Oh, there's going to be 



48 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

Paynteb — Of course I know about it. Didn't 
I see the picture in your house? How dare you 
bring a camera to my studio and take a picture 
Uke that? How dare you do it, you sneak? 

Deacon Backslap — {mournfully) Oh, then it's 
all true! I had hoped it wasn't, — I had prayed 
it wasn't, — Oh, this is terrible! terrible! — But 
do you know, your attitude is rather surprising? 
I always thought that artists painted pictures like 
that as a matter of course. 

Paynter — ^Well, what's that got to do with it? 

Deacon Backslap — ^Why, I can't see why you 
are so hard on me for doing with a camera what 
you do so often with a brush. 

Paynter — You old hypocrite, what has the 
subject of the picture got to do with it? It was 
the way you took it that I object to. 

Deacon Backslap — The way I took it? 

Paynter — Yes — on the sly. 

Deacon Backslap — Why, that part of it 
carries no weight at all ! 

Paynter — My dear sir, "That part of it" is 
forbidden by a Commandment which says, "Thou 
shalt not steal. " 

Deacon Backslap — Steal? I didn't steal any- 
thing. I can't imderstand your reasoning at all. 
What does it matter whether I took the picture 
in secret or openly? The thing that counts is: 
The picture was had. 

Paynter — What ! How dare you criticize my 
picture? 

Deacon Backslap — {astonished) Your pic- 
ture? Your picture? Why, you're not a womany 
are you? 



ACT n 49 

Paynter — In heaven's name, are you crazy? 
Are you trying to make a joke of it? 

Deacon Backslap — No, I'm not, but it seems 
to me that you are. 

Paynter — Now see here, you came in here 
yesterday and took a picture, and the picture 
turns out to be that of your prospective daughter- 
in-law. Now sir, what are you going to do about 
it, — blackmail me? 

Deacon Backslap — (astonished again) Black- 
mail you? Blackmail you? See here now, don't 
ever call me crazy again. You're getting wilder 
in your talk every minute. 

Paynter — -WeU, then, what did you come for? 

Deacon Backslap — I wanted to know ii I 
really did get the picture here. 

Paynter — Why, weren't you sure of it? 

Deacon Backslap — I was told that I took 
the picture here, and a number of things pointed 
that way, but I — I couldn't believe it. I was — 
er — ^not myself, you know. I had taken a glass 
or two of wine, and, not being used to it, it went 
to my head, and what I did after that I don't know. 
Everything's a blank, you know, everything's 
a blank. 

Paynter — Qcicking himself) Oh, if I'd only 
known that before ! What an ass I am. — But who 
told you that you took the picture here? 

Deacon Backslap — {reluctantly) The lady 
herself. 

Paynter — ^The lady? WTiat lady? 

Deacon Backslap — ^Miss Blair. You were 
present when she told me. 



50 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

Paynter— Oh, is that what she meant? Great 
heavens, how did she know? 

Deacon Backslap — Know what? 

Paynter — About the picture. 

Deacon Backslap — Seems to me she ought to 
know a good deal about it. 

Paynter — But why should she? 

Deacon Backslap — Why, the lady's not 
blind! 

Paynter — I don't understand. 

Deacon Backslap — I mean that the lady was 
evidently facing me when I took her picture. 

Paynter — Oh, you mean that she saw you take 
the picture? 

Deacon Backslap — Of course she did! 

Paynter— All of which shows that if you hadn't 
been snooping around with that damned camera 
of yours, there wouldn't have been any trouble at 
all. What a lot of devihsh curiosity you must 
have! You saw something with a cover over it, 
and you couldn't stand the pressure, — you must 
needs remove the cover. And now that Miss 
Blair knows about it, I suppose there'll be hell. 
Oh, you old sneak! You blame it all on drink, 
but I have my doubts about your being drunk 
when you took that picture. I'll soon find out. 
{strides toward side door) Jeannette, Jeannette, 
are you there, Jeannette? 

Jeannette — (froin adjoining room) Yes, Mr. 
Paynter. 

Paynter — Come in a moment, please. {Enter 
Jeannette, in pink silk kimona.) Jeannette, I 
believe you and the deacon met before? 
Jeannette — Oh, yes, — I'm sorry to say. 



ACT II 51 

Deacon Backslap — ^Eh? 

Paynter — (to Jeannette) I want to ask you a 
few questions about what happened here yester- 
day. 

Deacon Backslap — Oh, I beg of you 

Paynter — ^Well ? 

Deacon Backslap — ^The lady, — ^the lady, — 
you won't talk about it to the lady? 

Paynter — Tut, tut, you weren't so squeamish 
yesterday when you were making love to her. 

Deacon Backslap — Oh, Lord! What next? 

Paynter — Jeannette, had the deacon been 
drinking when you and Mr. Scribbleton met him 
in the studio yesterday morning? 

Jeannette — Oh, no, sir. But we all had a few 
drinks after that. 

Paynter — Did he take any pictures with his 
kodak while you were with him? 

Jeannette — No sir, none. 

Paynter — Therefore, from the time he started 
to drink until he left the studio, drunk, he didn't 
take any pictures? 

Jeannette — Absolutely none. 

Paynter — Then he must have taken the pic- 
ture before he got drunk? 

Jeannette — That's the only time he could have 
taken it. 

Deacon Backslap — What! Do you mean to 
tell me that I was sober when I took that picture? 

Paynter — I think I have proved it to you, 
haven't I? 

Deacon Backslap — ^Oh, this is getting worse, 
worse, all the time! Oh, this is impossible! I 
can't believe it ! 



52 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

Paynter — It's true nevertheless. Jeannette 
was vnih. you from the time you took the first 
drink until you were put in a cab and sent home. 

Deacon Backslap — My God, man, do you 
want to rob me of my only defence? There's 
some excuse for the man who does a thing when 
he's drunk, but none for the man who is sober. 
Oh, my! my! what can I say to Mirandy now? 

Paynter — I don't care a rap what you say to 
Mirandy, but I'm interested i.; what you're going 
to say to me. Come, what's next? Do you de- 
mand an apology? a duel? blood-money? or that I 
marry the girl? Which is it to be? Come to 
the point, please, for my time's too valuable to 
waste on a saint like you. 

Deacon Backslap — {astonished) Duel? Blood- 
money? Apology? Marry the girl? In the 
name of the saints ! Is this a house for paranoiacs ? 

Paynter — No, you've been brought to the 
wrong place. 

Deacon Backslap — By jingo, I have gotten 
into the wrong place. And I'll get out of it 
mighty quick, too. I never did like to talk to 
lunatics. But I'll come back, oh, I'll come back, 
Mr. Paynter, and I'll talk it over with you again 
when you're more rational. 

{Deacon Backslap rushes toward the door.) 

Paynter — ^My dear, good man, I don't give a 
damn if you never come back! 

{Exit Deacon Backslap.) 



ACT II 53 

Jeannette — Say, there's something fishy about 
this situation. 

Paynter — Fishy ? 

Jeannette — Yes, fishy. 

Paynter — I hadn't observed anything Uke 
fish. 

Jeannette — I mean there's something queer 
about this affair. The deacon didn't seem to 
understand you. 

Paynter — Well, if he didn't, it wasn't my 
fault, I called him all the appropriate names I 
could think of. 

{Enter Boh Scribbleton.) 

ScRiBBLETON — ^HcUo, people. 

Paynter — {striding to meet him and shaking 
his hand) Hello, Bob, you're just the fellow I 
want to see. 

Scribbleton — Good. {Shakes hands with Jean- 
nette) Hello, little one. How's the lady in pink, 
this morning? 

Jeannette — Fine and dandy. I wish Mr. 
Paynter could say the same. 

Scribbleton — Why, what's the matter with 
Max? 

Jeannette — ^He's in an awful scrape. 

Scribbleton — What's the matter, Max? 

Paynter — Oh, I very foolishly put my head in a 
halter, that's all. Do you remember my refusing 
to show you a picture that I was painting — the 
one over there with a cover over it? 

Scribbleton — Oh, yes, I remember the picture 
well. Best thing you ever did! — Er — ah — I 



54 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

mean, it was the best thing you ever did to put 
a cover over it. 

Paynter — What's that ! 

ScRiBBLETON — I mean — er — a cover is very apt 
to arouse people's curiosity to a high pitch, you 
know, gets them interested. 

Paynter — Oh, I see. It wasn't done, however, 
for that purpose, but it evidently had that effect. 
At any rate, the picture represents a scantily 
draped yomig lady who possesses a sweet, spirituelle 
face. I wanted to paint the picture especially for 
the Paris Salon, but I was at my wits' end for a 
model. I did not know any model who had a 
spirituelle face. There was a young lady who was 
having me paint her portrait who had just the face 
I wanted. But I didn't have the nerve to ask 
her to pose for my picture. I knew she would 
consider it an insult. So what did I do? I got 
Jeannette to pose for the body and I copied the 
face from my portrait of the lady. That's why I 
didn't wish anyone to see the picture — at least not 
here — in Paris, where the lady is unknown, it 
wouldn't have mattered. And what happened? 
Yesterday, Deacon Backslap sneaked in here with 
a camera and took a photograph of the picture 
without anyone knowing it. It happens that 
the young lady whose face I used is engaged to the 
deacon's son. The deacon exhibited the photo- 
graph on a screen to a whole roomful of people 
yesterday afternoon. The young lady was among 
the number. You saw the photograph on the 
screen at Deacon Backslap 's and you saw its 
effect on the young lady and the rest of the women. 



ACT II 55 

Now the question is: How in thunderation am I 
going to get out of it? 

ScRiBBLETON — {highly amused) And so Dea- 
con Backslap took a photograph of your picture, 
did he? 

Paynter — ^He certainly did, — but I don't see 
anything funny about it. 

ScRiBBLETON — No, of coursc uot. {Laugks 
heartily.) 

Je ANNETTE — You are not very sympathetic. 

ScRiBBLETON — Oh, I'm chock full of sympathy, 
indeed I am, the fact is, I'm just trying to hide 
my tears, — a fellow doesn't like to cry before a 
woman, you know. {Snatches Jeannette's hand- 
kerchief and pretends to wipe his eyes, and laughs 
again.) 

Jeannette — {recovering her handkerchief) Brute! 

Paynter — ^Oh, let him laugh. Let him wag 
his ears, too, if he wants to. 

ScRiBBLETON — It Certainly is a funny situation. 
But say — er — how did the deacon know you were 
painting that kind of a picture of his prospective 
daughter-in-law ? 

Paynter — That's what I don't understand. 
He pretends he was drunk when he took the pic- 
ture and didn't know where he got it. 

ScRiBBLETON — {laugMng again) Oh, he didn't? 
Well, all you've got to do then, is to keep your 
mouth shut, and he never will know where he 
got it. 

Paynter — Unfortunately, he came in this 
morning, and, like a fool, I immediately jumped 
on him for taking a photograph of the picture with- 
out my consent. 



56 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

ScRiBBLETON — (laughing) You don't say! 

Paynter — I called him a sneak and ripped him 
up the back in great shape. {Scribbleton goes 
on laughing and slaps his leg.) But, as it turned 
out, Miss Blair had told him where he had gotten 
the picture, — though how she knew anything 
about it beats me! 

Scribbleton — That's news, sure! — But what 
did the old fellow threaten to do? 

Paynter — That's another strange thing. He 
didn't threaten to do anything, except to come 
again and talk it over. 

Scribbleton — Then what's the use of worrying 
about it? 

Paynter — Oh, how can I help it? I know 
what's coming — a lawsuit or a horsewhipping — 
the lady herself will probably start something — 
and I've got a reputation, man, I've got a repu- 
tation. 

Scribbleton — {with sly glance at Jeannette) 
So have I, but it's mostly for being a *'De'il amang 
the weemen. " 

Jeannette — I should think you had ! 

Scribbleton — At any rate, what's the use of 
worrying? You can't afford it — you won't be able 
to paint. I'll tell you what you do: Let me try 
to fix this up for you. I'm a past master at the 
game. Don't worry a bit and let me handle the 
case. How about it, will you let me? 

Paynter — ^Will I let you? Say, if you pull 
me out of this hole, I'll — I'll — why I'll let you 
call on Jeannette. 

Jeannette — Oh, indeed? 

Scribbleton — Thank you, old man, thank 



ACT II 57 

you, but — er — ^well, you know, I used to think I 
cut something of a figure around here, but since 
the deacon made his appearance, I've changed my 
mind. I don't stand one, two, three, any more. 

Paynter — ^Is that so? Why, the deacon's a 
married man ! 

ScRiBBLETON — Oh, he has other charms be- 
sides that ! 

Jeannette — (blushing) Oh, you men make 
me tired ! 

ScRiBBLETON — ^Hcar that? We make her tired. 
She wouldn't say that to the deacon. 

{Jeannette giggles and makes a face at her tor- 
mentors.) 

Paynter — Well, how about it, do you really 
mean it? Will you help me out of this cursed 
business? 

SCRIBBLETON — Of coursc I wiU. Here's my 
hand on it. Now, Max, don't think any more 
about it. If any one broaches the subject, refer 
him to me. Understand? Refer him to me. 

Paynter — ^AU right. Bob, you're a brick. But 
how are you going to get me out of it? 

ScRiBBLETON — Ncvcr mind. I've got an idea 
in my noodle. That's all it's necessary for you to 
know. Leave it to me. Max. Understand? 
Leave it to me. 

Paynter — Good, you don't know how relieved 
I feel. — And now, if you'll excuse me, I've a little 
business to attend to. I've been engaged, you 
know, to paint some illustrations for a new book — 
Jeannette is going to pose for them — ^but I haven't 



58 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

got all of the properties that are to appear in the 
pictures, and I'll have to go out and get them 
somewhere. One of the things I need is a big, 
old-fashioned camera. 

ScRiBBLETON — A big Camera.? 

Paynter— Yes, such as you'd find in a photo- 
graph gallery. Think of me painting a picture 
with a camera in it! — when I simply hate photo- 
graphs! Irony of Fate, isn't it.? 

ScRiBBLETON — Take care, you'll owe your 
notoriety to a camera yet. 

Paynter— Or— a— horsewhip Ta, ta, I'll see 
you later. 

SCRIBBLETON— Good-bye, old man, I'll hold 
the fort imtil you return. 

{Exit Paynter.) 

Jeannette— What did you say you would hold? 

SCRIBBLETON— The fort, but what I really 
meant was — ^j^our hand. 

Jeannette — I like your nerve! 

SCRIBBLETON— Well, that's encouraging; keep 
on, maybe you'll like the rest of me after awhile. 

Jeannette— Oh, there's so little left, it isn't 
worth considering. 

^ SCRIBBLETON— Thanks. We seem to get along 
nicely, don't we? Did you ever notice it.?— 
every time we get within hailing distance, we put 
up our props and take a swat at each other. But 
do you know, I've come to believe that we only 
give each other love taps, after all. Say, Jeannette, 
you're a little beauty, aren't you.? 



ACT II 59 

Jeannette — {dropping her eyes) Do you think 
so? 

ScRiBBLETON — Do I? Why, when I see you I 
can't take my eyes off you, and when I go away, 
your image goes with me. Oh, Jeannette, I — I — 
wish you and I could — er — I wish you and I could 
love each other! 

Jeannette — Oh, Bob, do you — ^do you find it 
so difficult, then? 

Scribbleton — Do I find what so difficult? 

Jeannette — To — a — ^to love me — even a teenie 
weenie bit? 

Scribbleton — {taking her in his arms) My 
dear little girl! I never found anything so easy 
in all my life ! 

Jeannette — {trying to disengage herself) 
What's that ! I'm easy? 

Scribbleton — Oh, no, no, I mean — I mean it 
wasn't a case of trying to love you — the love just 
oozed into my system like — well, like water soak- 
ing into a dish-rag. 

Jeannette — ^How beautiful ! 

Scribbleton — Yes, it is pretty, isn't it? A 
dish-rag and water make a splendid combination, 
especially with a piece of soap. 

Jeannette — Go on, go on, dear, and tell me 
the rest. 

Scribbleton — About the water and the rag? 

Jeannette — Oh, no, about — about your love. 

Scribbleton — Oh, yes, sure, — ^you know I'd 
do most anything to please a lady. 

Jeannette — I believe you're just making fun 
of me. 

Scribbleton — Oh, no, Jeannette, no, no, I 



60 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

wouldn't make fun of the sweetest little girl in 
all the world! 

Jeannette — ^Am I that to you? 

ScRiBBLETON — Indeed you are. And now, 
dearest, when is it to be? 

Jeannette — ^When is what to be? 

ScRiBBLETON — OuF marriage. 

Jeannette — Oh, do you want to marry me? 

ScRiBBLETON — Do I Want to marry you? 
What the— ! 

Jeannette — Why, I didn't hear you ask me! 

ScRiBBLETON — Oh, just an oversight, just an 
oversight, I assure you. And now, when is it to 
be? 

Jeannette — You must give me a little time, 
dear,^ — ^say in about six months? 

ScRiBBLETON — Six fiddlesticks! Make it to- 
day. 

Jeannette — Oh, no, I couldn't. I promised 
Max to pose for the illustrations for that book, you 
know. 

SCRIBBLETON — Oh, yes, so you did. Well, after 
that, then? 

Jeannette — All right, we'll compromise on 
that. 

ScRiBBLETON — Er — by the way, that book that 
Max is illustrating doesn't require any pictures 
of water-nymphs or Psyches, does it? 

Jeannette — {laughing, turns her back to Scrib- 
bleton) No, you goose, it doesn't — ^just pictures 
of an actress. 

ScRiBBLETON — Oh, just pictures of an actress, 
—from whom Psyche, I suppose, could take 
lessons. But a promise is a promise and you'll 



ACT II 61 

have to fulfill it, but that's the last posing you'll 
ever do. 

Jeannette — Oh, I'm so glad of that! But 
poor Max! He's terribly worried, isn't he? Do 
all you can to help him, Bob. He's been like a 
father to me. 

ScRiBBLETON — You bet I will! And that re- 
minds me. Where does he keep his lay-figures, or 
his stage properties, or whatever you call the 
paraphernalia he uses as models for his pictures? 

Jeannette — There's a lay-figure near the wall, 
but most of the things of that kind are in a room 
here to the left. 

ScRiBBLETON — ^Has he such a thing as a stuffed 
ostrich, or a large white bird of some kind? 

Jeannette — I think he has, — ^but what in the 
world prompted a question of that kind? 

ScRiBBLETON — (joyfully) Never mind, my 
dear, never you mind, — ^just lead me to it ! lead me 
to it! I want to look at that bird. 

(Scrihbleton catches Jeannette by the arm.) 

Jeannette — ^AU right, come on. But why 
this sudden interest in a bird? 

ScRiBBLETON — Suddcn interest in a bird? My 
dear, I've been interested in a bird ever since I 
met you. 

{Exit Jeannette and Scrihbleton to left, laughing. 
Enter Mrs. Backslap and Angelina.) 

Mrs. Backslap — Oh, dear, here I've been 
breaking my neck to arrive on time, and Mr. 



62 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

Pay liter doesn't seem to have gotten here yet. If 
I were late he'd charge me for his time, but since 
he is late, I suppose he thinks it doesn't matter. 
Angelina, are you sure that clock in the parlor was 
right? 

Angelina — Ach, yes, I set her every morning. 

Mrs. Backslap — Do you set it by the clock 
on the steeple at the corner? 

Angelina — Ach, no, she's no good. 

Mrs. Backslap — She? Why, what makes you 
say that? 

Angelina — I've got no faith in steeple clocks, 
no, not me. T'other day I walked down town; 
the steeple clock on the corner said two o'clock, 
the next steeple clock I passed, four blocks away, 
said ten minutes after two, and when I'd gone a 
mile, I passed another steeple clock that said 
twenty minutes after two. Those clocks vas all. 
different — they're good for nuddings. 

Mrs. Backslap — (laughing) Well, how do 
you set the clock, then? 

Angelina — Ach, I set her by a rooster that 
crows every morning. 

Mrs. Backslap — By a rooster? Of all things ! 
But how do you know what time it is when the 
rooster crows? 

Angelina — She always crows at five o'clock. 

Mrs. Backslap — She? But how do you know 
it's five o'clock? 

Angelina — She crows five times. 

Mrs. Backslap — Oh, Angelina, you numbskull! 
It's no wonder Mr. Paynter isn't here! I may 
be hours early or hours late. 

Angelina — ^Ach, it makes no difference. She 



ACT II 63 

can paint your face as well one time as another. 

Mrs. Backslap — She can? But an engage- 
ment is an engagement ! And now, Angelina,when 
Mr. Paynter arrives and begins my portrait, you 
mustn't leave me, not even for one second, do you 
hear? One never knows what these artist chaps 
may do. Judging by the pictures on the walls, it 
wouldn't be altogether proper for a lady to re- 
main here alone; so don't you leave me, Angelina, 
don't you dare leave me ! 

Angelina — No, no, not me. 

{Enter George Backslap and Miss Blair.) 

George — Oh, hello, mother, I didn't know you 
were 

Mrs. Backslap — {drawing herself up) What! 
In company with that woman? How dare you! 
How dare you flaunt her before my face? 

George — Why, mother! What does it all mean? 

Mrs. Backslap — It means divorce — that's 
what it means. 

George — Divorce? How can I get a divorce 
before I'm married? 

Mrs. Backslap — You make a joke of it? Leave 
that woman, instantly! 

George — {putting his arm about his fiancee and 
drawing her close) I'll do nothing of the kind. 

Mrs. Backslap — Then /'// leave ! Come Ange- 
lina, we'll go over here. 

{Mrs. Backslap strides toward door, at left, 
Angelina follovnng.) 



64 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

George — But mother, won't you explain? 
Mrs. Backslap — Ask that woman to explain — 
the hussy! 

(Exit Mrs. Backslapy haughtily, to left, Angelina 
following and imitating her mistress's manner.) 

Miss Blair — {sobbing) Oh, George, your 
mother thinks I posed for that dreadful picture. 
Oh, George, I never, I never did it. Oh, George, 
you believe me, don't you.^ Oh, George, oh, 
George, oh, George! 

George — Of course I believe you, dearest. But 
there's something very queer about that picture 
and I mean to punish the scoundrel who is re- 
sponsible for it. I think Mr. Paynter knows 
something about it, for when he saw the picture 
on the screen, he was startled, and sang out, "The 
picture! The picture! Oh, I'm ruined, I'm 
ruined!" and dashed out of the house as fast as 
his legs would carry him. That looks as if he 
knew something about it, and if he does, he'll tell 
me what he knows or I'll punch his head for him, 
that's what I'll do. 

Miss Blair — ^But George, that picture was a 
photograph, and you tell me it was taken with 
your father's camera. Now, how in the world 
did your father, of all men, come into possession 
of a photograph like that of me, when no such 
photograph was ever taken .^ And what possible 
connection can Mr. Paynter have with it? Why, 
Mr. Paynter simply abhors photographs. 

George — I'll admit, Inez, it's mighty puzzhng, 
but in these days of the moving picture, a photo- 



ACT II 65 

graph can be made to show anything. The 
photograph in question is a fake — it was manu- 
factured — but where? I beheve it was made 
right here — several things point that way — that's 
why I connect Mr. Paynter with it. In the first 
place, all of the other pictures that father took 
were pictures of churches, taken out of doors — 
the picture in question could hardly have been 
taken out of doors. Then father came here with 
his camera and you say it was here he got tipsy. 
What happened after he got tipsy? He probably 
doesn't Imow himseK. Then he was sent home 
in a cab with the picture in his camera. Doesn't 
it look, then, as if the photograph w^ere manufac- 
tured here? Of course it does. I'm almost posi- 
tive it was. Mark my words, Inez, we'll get to 
the bottom of this outrage to-day, and we'll find 
bottom right here, in this studio. 

Miss Blair — Oh, I hope we do. I can't stand 
your mother's scorn much longer. 

(Enter Mr. Scribhleton, from left.) 

ScRiBBLETON — Hcllo, pcoplc, good momiug, 
good morning. 

Miss Blair and George — ^Good morning, Mr. 
Scribbleton. 

ScRiBBLETON — Is there anything I can do for 
you? 

George — Is Mr. Paynter about? We should 
like to see him. 

Scribbleton — I'm sorry, he's out at present. 
He left me in charge. Can I be of any help? 

George — I'm afraid not. Our business is of a 



66 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

rather personal nature. Will Mr. Paynter be in 
soon? 

ScRiBBLETON— Oh, yes — er— I mean — er — it 
may be some time before he returns. Will you — 
er — ^will you call again? 

George— No, we'll wait for him, we've simply 
got to see him this morning. 

ScRiBBLETON— Oh,— ah,— well, make yourselves 
at home, make yourselves at home. By the way, 
have you ever taken a walk through the picture- 
gallery? Mr. Paynter has a lot of mighty fine 
pictures on view. 

George— I don't believe I have. Shall we take 
a look at them, Inez, while we're waiting? 

Miss Blair— Yes, indeed, I'd like to. 

SCRIBBLETON— You'll find the finest of them 
over there to the right. 

George — Thank you, you're very kind, we'll 
see you later. 

{Exit Miss Blair and George to right.) 

SCRIBBLETON- Max was right. The lady is 
on the job and is evidently going to start some- 
thing. Poor Max! They'll make it hot for him 
when he comes home. 

{Enter four members (f the Lily-white Society 
for the Suppression of Sin, namely: Mrs. Gray, 
Mrs. Brown, Mrs. Black and Mrs. Green.) 

SCRIBBLETON — How^ do you do, ladies. 
Mrs. Gray, Brown, Black and Green — 
How do you do. 



ACT II 67 

ScRiBBLETON — Have you quite recovered from 
your fainting spells? 

Mrs. Brown — Oh, wasn't it horrible? 

ScRiBBLETON — ^Horrible? What was horrible? 

Mrs. Brown — The picture. And that's why 
we're here this morning. 

ScRiBBLETON — Indeed? Why, were your pic- 
tures taken in the same way? 

Mrs. Brown, Gray, Black and Green — Oh, 
horrors, no ! 

ScRiBBLETON — Then what is the connection 
between the picture and your being here? 

Mrs. Black — Why, we understood the picture 
was taken here. 

SCRIBBLETON — I'm stiU in the dark, ladies; 
more light, please. 

Mrs. Gray — ^How dense you are! Don't you 
know that we are members of the Lily-white 
Society for the Suppression of Sin? 

SCRIBBLETON — I Wouldn't put it past you, in- 
deed I wouldn't. But even at that, I couldn't 
be expected to go into raptures over the amount 
of light you have shed on your reason for coming 
here. 

Mrs. Brown — Don't you know that we are con- 
ducting an anti-indecent picture crusade? 

SCRIBBLETON — Oh, ho, is that so? 

Mrs. Brown — We thought if the picture in 
question were made here, that this might be a 
good field for us to investigate. Do you under- 
stand now? 

ScRiBBLETON — Well, I should say I do! So 
you've come to view the pictures, have you? 



68 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

(aside) Oh, Lord, here's more trouble for poor 
Max! 

Mrs. Gray — Yes, weVe come to view the pic- 
tures, and if we find any that couldn't be hung in a 
Sunday School, well— there's going to be trouble, 
that's all. 

ScRiBBLETON — (aside) I can see Trouble now, 
sitting in an automobile, whizzing along ninety 
miles an hour and headed for this spot. 

(The ladies examine the pictures on the walls y 
viewing them through lorgnettes.) 

Mrs. Brown— Oh, these pictures are dreadful! 

Mrs. Gray and Mrs. Green— Shocking ! 
Shocking ! 

Mrs. Black — They are positively bad ! 

ScRiBBLETON — Ladics, you surprise me! Mr. 
Paynter is a clever artist, and his pictures are con- 
sidered very good. 

Mrs. Gray — We are not criticizing them from 
an artistic standpoint. 

SCRIBBLETON — No? From what standpoint, 
pray? 

Mrs. Gray — From a moral standpoint. 

SCRIBBLETON — Oh, I supposc you think that 
the ladies in the pictures are not sufficiently — er — 
not sufficiently upholstered? 

Mrs. Black — Such pictures are shameful, 
shameful, sir! 

SCRIBBLETON — But what would you have the 
poor artist do? As you mil note, this picture, 
for instance, represents a bathing-girl. Surely 
you wouldn't have the artist paint a lady going in 



ACT II 69 

to bathe in a street gown, would you? A bath 
isn't taken that way. For my part, from a hy- 
gienic standpoint — that is, if the lady wishes a good 
wash — I think she's overdressed. 

Mrs. Black, Brown, Green and Gray — Oh, 
horrors ! 

ScRiBBLETON — ^Now take this picture, for ex- 
ample. Here's a dancing-girl. You know your- 
selves that dancing-girls dress exactly like that. 
Why, I've seen some that didn't — but never mind, 
never mind ! It isn't the artist's fault if they dis- 
like harness. He's got to paint true to life, hasn't 
he? If he doesn't, he's laughed at. So what 
would you? As between you and the critics, he's 
between the she-devils and the deep sea. 

Mrs. Black, Brown, Green and Gray — She- 
devils? 

ScRiBBLETON — Sea-devils, s-e-a, ocean-devils, 
— er — ocean nymphs, mermaids, you know. But 
honestly, now, you don't think these pictures 
really bad, do you? 

Mrs. Brown — Anything is bad that is harmful. 

ScRiBBLETON — ^Harmful? To whom? 

Mrs. Brown — To the young. 

ScRiBBLETON — Then don't be alarmed, ladies, 
I'm the only one in danger, but I'll risk it. 

Mrs. Black, Brown, Green and Gray — Oh, 
you horrid man! 

SCRIBBLETON — But thcsc picturcs are mere 
outlines, mere sketches, don't you know. If you 
want to see genuine pictures, take a look at the 
finished ones in the gallery to the right. There 
are some real works of art in there. 



70 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

Mrs. Black — Come on, ladies, the more evi- 
dence we get against this place the better. 

(Exit the ladies to the right.) 

ScRiBBLETON — Good hcavens, do they intend 
to raid this place? Poor Max! If he knew how 
things were going, he wouldn't think me a shining 
success in staving off trouble. But wait. I 
haven't had a good shot at the situation yet. 
Heigh-ho, what's all this? 

{Enter two porters, carrying a hig camera.) 

One of the Porters — Where shall we put 
it, boss? 

ScRiBBLETON — Let's see, Max will need it here. 
Put it over here, boys. {Indicates point near cen- 
tre of room. The porters do as directed and leave.) 
Max ought to be home soon. In the meantime I 
think I'll take another look at that bird. 

{Exit Scribhleton to left. Enter George Backslap 
and Inez from right.) 

George — {spying the camera) Ha, ha! Look 
what's here ! 

Miss Blair — Why it's a camera, isn't it? 

George — So Mr. Paynter abhors photographs, 
does he? What's he doing with this, then? 
Manufacturing more spurious photographs, eh? 

Miss Blair — It certainly looks like a clue. 

George — ^Looks like it? — I know it is. Let's 
stick around. We may find out something more. 



ACT II 71 

Miss Blair — Suppose we go into the gallery 
again. 

George — Good! Come on. 

{Exit Miss Blair and George to right. Enter 
Deacon Backslap from rear.) 

Deacon Backslap — {spying the camera) By 
George! Look at that camera! That certainly 
looks suspicious. I'm glad I came back. Maybe 
I'll find out something. There's surely some- 
thing fishy about all this business. Mr. Paynter 
overshot the mark when he told me that I was 
sober when I took that picture. There's such a 
thing as proving too much. No, no, I never did 
it when I was sober. And if they made up one 
lie about me, the whole thing may be a lie. By 
gum, I'll just hang around and see what goes on. 
I'd like to know what they do with that camera. 
I wonder where I can hide? {Here the deacon 
peers about him for a hiding place, and finally 
catches sight of the lay-figure resting against the wall 
with a black blanket partly covering it) Ah, I've 
an idea! Here's the very thing. {The deacon 
carries the dummy to the wings, and, returning, sits 
down on the floor with his back against the wall and 
picks up the blanket. As he does so, Scribbleton, 
unknown to the deacon, enters from the left, and, see- 
ing the deacon, glides behind a curtain, where he 
watches the deacon.) I'll pull this blanket up 
over my head and then they'll think I'm the lay- 
figure. It's taking some chances, but I'm about 
as reckless now as they make 'em. 



72 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

{Here the deacon pulls the blanket over his head 
and remains quiet. Scribbleton walks boldly to the 
center of the room, and, observing that the blanket is 
well over the deacon s head, slaps his leg and grimaces ; 
then he walks over to where the deacon is sitting and 
deliberately trips over the deacon's legs.) 

Scribbleton — Oh, damn that dummy! It's 
forever in the way^ I'll break my neck on it next. 

{Here Scribbleton gives the deacon a sharp kick on 
the legs and walks to the front of the stage, grinning. 
The deacon peers out from the blanket, and, seeing 
that Scribbleton s back is turned, reaches down and 
rubs his legs, drawing suddenly under cover again 
as Scribbleton turns, at the sound of footsteps from 
the rear, to greet Max Paynter, who enters at this 
moment.) 

Scribbleton — Hello, Max, did you get all the 
things you needed? The camera arrived before 
you did. 

Paynter — Oh, yes, I've got everything now. 
But say. Bob, did anything happen while I was 
away? 

{Here the deacon peeps from under the blanket 
and covers up again.) 

Scribbleton — Oh, nothing very much hap- 
pened. But there are a few people in the other 
room who would like to see you on rather par- 
ticular business. But don't let them bother you. 
Remember, refer them to me. 

Paynter — Did the young lady put in an ap- 
pearance? 



ACT II 73 

ScBiBBLETON — Oh^ yes, and her fiance, too. 
They're waiting for you. But don't worry. 
Everything's all right. They didn't bring a horse- 
whip, but I've no doubt they've got a pistol or two. 

Paynter — Lord forbid! Did Deacon Backslap 
return? 

ScRiBBLETON — (grinning) Well — er — ^not so 
you would notice it. He's probably lying around 
somewhere sleeping off another jag. No doubt 
he'll make his appearance later. But say, Max, 
do me a favor, will you? 

Paynter — ^What is it, Bob? 

ScRiBBLETON — Thosc illustrations you spoke 
about painting, you know? 

Paynter — Yes? 

SCRIBBLETON — For the love of Heaven paint 
all of them in the next twenty-four hours, will you? 

Paynter — Why, what's the hurry? 

ScRiBBLETON — I'm in an awful rush. 

Paynter — You are? 

ScRiBBLETON — Surc I am. 

Paynter — Why, how do they concern you? 

ScRiBBLETON — Well, it's this way : The longer 
you take to paint those pictures, the longer you 
will keep Jeannette from entering into matri- 
mony — ^with me. 

Paynter — Oh, (laughing) so that's it, is it? 
(seizing Bob's hand) Congratulations, old man. 
You're getting a peach. 

SCRIBBLETON — Well, I should say! Yes, Jean- 
nette's promised to marry me as soon as those 
pictures are finished. So hurry up. Max. Can't 
you finish 'em to-day? 

Paynter — (laughing) My, you're just as much 



74 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

in a hurry to get married as some people are to get 
divorced! Sure I'll hurry. Help me a little, 
Bob, and I'll start in on them right away. 

ScRiBBLETON — Good ! What do you want done? 

Paynter — Take hold of one end of this couch 
and help me carry it. {They carry the conch to the 
right of the centre of the room and about fifteen feet 
away from the camera.) There, that's about right. 
Now help me place this covered picture behind 
the couch to form a back-ground. There, that's 
O.K. Now go and fetch Jeannette while I get 
my canvas ready. 

{Exit Scribhleton to left. Paynter brings an easel, 
on which is a blank canvas, from one side of the 
room, and places it slightly to the right of the couch, 
but nearer the foot-lights. Enter Scribbleton and 
Jeannette with their arms about each other and 
looking very happy. Jeannette still wears the pink 
silk kimona. Paynter grasps her hand.) 

Paynter — I'm so glad, Jeannette, to hear of 
your engagement. I'm sure I hope you will be 
very happy. 

Jeannette — Thank you. Max. 

Paynter — {raising his hands over them) Bless 
you, my children! 

Scribbleton — For goodness sake. Max, get to 
work and start those pictures ! 

Paynter — (laughing) I never did see such 
impatience! Just a moment, now, until I ex- 
plain the pose to Jeannette, and then I'll start. 
Now, Jeannette, you are supposed, you know, to 
be an actress, and the first illustration will depict 



ACT II 75 

a scene at the photographer's where you are having 
your picture taken in costume. Sit down on the 
couch a moment and look at the camera, I want 
to point it at you just as if you were really being 
photographed. {Jeannette sits down on the couch 
and Paynter, removing the cap from the lens, looks 
through the camera and adjusts it, and replaces the 
cap.) There, that's all right. Now for the pho- 
tographer. Let's see, {glances toward rear of studio) 
that dummy back there will do. Get that dummy 
Bob, and stand it up behind the camera just as if 
it were a real live photographer. 

ScRiBBLETON — (grinning) Bully! I can do that 
all right! 

(The ''lay-figure'' slides limply to the floor. 
Scribbleton grabs "it/' and, keeping the cover over 
''its" head, raises and carries "it" with some 
difficulty to the rear of the camera, where he stands 
"it" on "its" feet, pushes "its" head down in a 
stooping position in no gentle manner, throwing 
part of the blanket deftly over the camera, but keep- 
ing most of it over the head of the "dummy" in the 
manner of a photographer who is focusing his camera, 
then he adjusts the "dummy's" hands, placing 
them on the tripod,) 

Scribbleton — ^How's that, Max? 

Paynter — (laughing) If that isn't a hot look- 
ing photographer! Look at his legs! He's weak 
in the knees and his back's caving in! Puts me 
in mind of an old plug. Stiffen his pins a little, 
Bob, and make him look like a real live un ! 



76 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

ScRiBBLETON — A real live un, eh? Oh, I'll 
put some life into him all right! 

{Scribhleton grabs the ** dummy'' and jerks ''iV 
into a more upright ^position. The ''dummy'' 
sags again. Scribhleton kicks ''it" on the shins 
and jerks "it" into position again.) 

ScRiBBLETON — Maybe you'll stay put now, eh? 

{This time the "dummy" "stays put.") 

Paynter — ^Ah, that's better. Now, Jeannette, 
remove your kimona. 

{Rising, Jeannette does as requested, revealing 
her trim figure in the exceedingly scanty costume of an 
oriental dancer. Throwing the kimona on a chair 
at some distance, she sits down again on the couch 
and assumes a very fetching attitude.) 

ScRiBBLETON — So that's the actress who is 
having her picture taken in costume, eh? 

Paynter — Exactly. Doesn't she make a pretty 
picture? 

ScRiBBLETON — It's just as I told her. She 
could give Psyche cards and spades. 

Jeannette — Oh, you! {Makes a face at him.) 

Paynter — Now let me see. Everything's all 
right now except one thing. Do you notice it? 

SCRIBBLETON — No, what is it? 

Paynter — Why, don't you see, the photog- 
rapher is focusing his camera. He couldn't do 
that with the cap over the lens. Take the cap 
off, please. 

ScRiBBLETON — {glancing dubiously at the "dum- 



ACT II 77 

mi/") Oh, let it stay on, what's the difference? 

Paynter — ^Every detail must be correct, you 
know. Take it off, please. 

ScRiBBLETON — Oh, all right, if you insist. 

(Scribbleton reluctantly takes the cap from the lens 
of the camera. Instantly the ''dummy'' throws 
"its " hands in the air and drops to the floor in a heap 
the cover falling with ''it'' and remaining over "its'* 
head.) 

Paynter — Oh, fiddlesticks ! 
Jeannette — (laughing) I believe that dummy 
was shocked. 

Scribbleton — I know darn well it was shocked. 

{Scribbleton lifts the "dummy" and puts "it" in 
position again, kicking "it" a couple of times as he 
does so. As . Scribbleton takes his hands away, the 
"dummy" sways unsteadily, and appears ready to 
drop again.) 

Paynter — (petulantly) If that dummy falls 
again, get a hammer and nail its feet to the floor. 

{The "dummy" immediately appears to pull 
itself together. Scribbleton laughs and slaps his 
leg.) 

Paynter — ^Well, I think we're all ready now. 
Let's see, where are my crayons? {Looks about 
him) Where in thunder did I put my crayons? 

Jeannette — Perhaps you left them in the other 
room. 



78 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

Paynter — I'll bet that's what I did. Hold 
that pose, please, Jeanne tte, until I get them. 
I'll be back in a minute. 

{Exit Paynter to right. Scribbleton immediately 
puts the cap over the lens of the camera.) 

Jeannette — Why, what in the world did you 
do that ioT? 

Scribbleton — I never like to see anyone hog 
the whole show. 

Jeannette — One might think you were jealous 
of that old dummy. 

Scribbleton — It's a good thing for the dummy 
that it is old. 

Jeannette — What strange talk! 

{Enter Mrs. Backslap, followed by Angelina and 
the four Crusaders. Mrs. Backslap catches sight of 
the dummy photographer and screams.) 

Mrs. Backslap — Oh, there's my husband! 

{Mrs. Backslap grabs the black cloth and jerks 
it from the ''dummy's'' head; the ''dummy" throws 
up "its" hands and staggers back aghast.) 

Mrs. Backslap — Oh, you villain ! ( Then rushes 
toward Jeannette) Oh, you hussy, I'll tear you to 
pieces I 

{Jeannette screams and George Backslap and 
Miss Blair come rushing in, Jeannette seizes the 
cover on the picture back of her, and throwing it 



ACT II 79 

about her, runs screaming from the room. Mr. 
Paynter enters on the run. George Backslap and 
Miss Blair catch sight of the uncovered picture , so 
does Paynter.) 

George and Miss Blair — Look! Look! The 
picture ! The picture ! 

Paynter — {shrinking hack) My God, I'm 
undone ! 

Mrs. Backslap — {to her husband) You lasciv- 
ious wretch! I've caught you in the very act! 

George — (to Paynter) You damnable scoun- 
drel! How did you come by that painting? 

Paynter — -I — I. Say Bob, — — 

Mrs. Backslap — {to her husband) How dare 
you take a picture of a creature like that? Have 
you gone crazy entirely? Have you lost all sense 
of decency? 

Deacon Backslap — I — I — — 

Miss Blair — (to Paynter) How dare you 
paint a picture of me like that? 

Mrs. Backslap — (to her husband) What have 
you got to say for yourself, you libertine? 

Deacon Backslap — I — I 

Mrs. Backslap — (stamping her foot) Silence, 
sir! 

George — (to Paynter) Out with it, damn you ! 
What made you paint a picture of Miss Blair, 
like that? 

Mrs. Backslap — (shaking her fist under her 
husband's nose) You gray-haired, double-faced 
Turk ! Is this your harem? 

Deacon Backslap — Oh, my God! 

George — (to Paynter) You contemptible 



80 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

sneak! You snake! Damn you, I'll smash your 
peanut noodle! 

{George rushes toward Paynter; Scrihhleton 
grabs him and holds him back.) 

Paynter — {starting angrily toward George) 
What's that? My peanut noodle? 

{Miss Blair screams and jumps in between.) 

Mrs. Backslap — {grabbing her husband by the 
throat) You skinny old rip, I hate you, I hate 
you, I hate you! 

{Enter Mrs. Blair.) 

Mrs. Blair — {amazed) Good gracious, what's 
all this ? {Notices the painting, screams and staggers 
back into the arms of Angelina.) Oh, Inez, oh, 
Inez, how could you? 

Angelina — Ach, if I knew vat vas the fight 
about, I'd hit somedings. 

George — {to Paynter) You villainous, crawl- 
ing, slimy, degenerate paint swab ! You ought to 
be ashamed of yourself! You're a disgrace to 
your profession! By God, I'll have your blood! 

{Scribbleton still holds him back.) 

Mrs. Backslap — {to her husband) You old 

reprobate, you back-stairs devil, you — ^you ! 

Scribbleton — Order! Order! 



ACT II 81 

George — {shaking his fist at Paynter) You 
low down, cowardly skunk, you — ^you 

Paynter — For goodness sake. Bob, say some- 
thing, say something! 

Scribbleton — How can I? Order! Order! 

George- — {to Paynter) You infamous scalawag, 
you miserable cur! 

Mrs. Backslap — {to her husband) Oh, had I 
known what you were, I'd have left you long ago ! 
You vile, wicked thing, you low brute ! You — — 

Scribbleton — Order ! Order ! 

George — Answer me, damn you. Why did 
you paint that picture? Out with it, you pin- 
head! 

Mrs. Backslap — {to her husband) Shame on 
you! A man of your age ! Shame! Shame! 

Scribbleton — {roaring at the top of his voice) 
For the love of Heaven, order, order! Give me 
the floor, will you? Order, please! I'd like to 
say something about this picture, and after that 
you can fly at each other's throat if you wish to, 

but listen just a moment. Now, in the first 

place: How was it that Deacon Josiah Backslap 
went home with the photograph of a scantily 
draped woman in his camera? The answer is 
simple, — I put it there. 

Everybody — {in chorus) You did? 

Scribbleton — Sure I did, but not intentionally. 
It was like this : The deacon's got a kodak that's 
exactly like mine, and yesterday he left it in the 
studio, and I mistook it for my own and took a 
photograph of that picture with it. When the 
deacon went home he took his camera with him 



82 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

and of course the picture was on the film. That's 
all there is to it. 

Deacon Backslap — Well I'll be gosh-diddled ! 
There, Mirandy, I told you I was innocent, didn't 
I? 

Mrs. Backslap — Not so fast, Josiah Backslap, 
not so fast. Didn't I see you taking the photo- 
graph of a dreadful woman not five minutes ago? 

Deacon Backslap — Er — ah — ah — ^no — I was- 
n't — I slipped in here and let on I was a lay -figure, 
hoping I might discover how the picture got in 
my camera. And they thought I was a lay- 
figure and stood me up behind that camera to 
represent a photographer 

Mrs. Backslap — Josiah Backslap, if you were 
a decent man, how could you stand there looking 
through the camera at that dreadful woman? 

Deacon Backslap — Why — er — er 

ScRiBBLETON — He couldu't scc anything, 
madam. See, the cap is over the lens. 

Mrs. Backslap — (suspiciously) Was it on there 
all of the time? 

ScRiBBLETON — Surc it was, wasn't it. Deacon? 

Deacon Backslap — WTiy — er — er — ^you could 
see it better than I could, the cloth was over my 
head, you know. 

Mrs. Backslap — Oh, my dear, dear husband! 
How shamefully I have misjudged you! {Throws 
her arms about the deacon's neck) You're a good, 
good man, after all. Please forgive me. 

George — All of this is very interesting, Mr. 
Scribbleton, but it doesn't explain why this out- 
rageous painting was perpetrated, — Miss Blair, 
sir, never posed for it. 



ACT n 83 

ScRiBBLETON — No, she didn't pose for it, but 
it's a portrait of Miss Blair all the same. 

Paynter — (dismayed) Bob ! Bob ! 

GeorgEv— Ha, you admit it! And that devil 
(pointing to Paynter) painted it, eh? 

ScRiBBLETON — Sure he did. 

Paynter — (amazed) For God's sake, Bob! 

George — What right had he to paint such a 
picture? It's outrageous ! I'll have him arrested ! 
No, by the Eternal, I'll break every bone in his 
body! 

ScRiBBLETON — (holding George hack) Just a 
moment, now, just a moment. It wasn't the 
right thing to do, that's a fact. But listen : Max 
wanted to paint a picture such as you see, and he 
needed a model for it who had a spirituelle face. 
The only person he knew who had that kind of a 
face was Miss Blair, but he didn't like to ask her 
to pose for him, so he got another model to pose 
for the body, and, as Miss Blair was having him 
paint her portrait, he copied the face from her 
portrait. It was done without her knowledge, 
and I must say it was a damnable thing to do! 

George — Atrocious ! 

Mrs. Blair — Criminal! 

Paynter — (aghast) (to Scribbleton) You're 
making a pretty mess of it, aren't you? You 
cheese-head ! 

Scribbleton— (tofcmgf no notice) Yes, it was 
damnable, it was atrocious, it was criminal. He 
ought to be horse-whipped within an inch of his 
life! 

George — Yes, and I'll do it, too ! 

Mrs. Blair — ^The scoundrel, he deserves it! 



84 THE GIEL IN THE PICTURE 

Faynter— {shaking his fist at Scribbleton) You 
backslider ! 

Scribbleton— (/aHn^ no notice) Yes, by the 
Eternal, he does deserve it, and more, he ought to 
be hamstrung! Think of it, think of the low- 
down, cussed meanness of it, to paint a picture 
ladies and gentlemen, a picture that is destined to 
be considered one of the most beautiful pictures 
in the world, and think how damnably atrocious 
it was not to let Miss Blair know that she had 
been done the honor, the great honor, of having her 
face used as a model for the picture. 

George, Inez and Mrs. Blair— What's that? 
The honor? 

Scribbleton — Yes, honor, the great honor. Let 
me prove it to you. Look at the picture. In its 
present state it seems a little — er — a little daring, 
doesn't it? But it isn't finished, my dear good 
people, it isn't nearly finished. Let me show you 
how it will look when it's done. But remember 
one thing, what I will show you is only a very poor 
imitation of the complete picture. Jeannette, 
Jeannette, (calls in direction of adjoining room) 
tell the porters to bring in the bird. 

{Enter two porters, each bearing a huge, white 
wing, followed by Jeannette, who is now prettily 
gowned.) 

Scribbleton — Show the men, please, Jeannette, 
where to put the wings. 

{Under the direction of Jeannette, one wing is 
affixed to the left shoulder of the lady in the painting^ 



ACT II 85 

and the other wing to the right shoulder, in such a 
manner that when the porters withdraw, and a clear 
view of the picture is obtained, it is instantly seen 
that the painted lady has been transformed into a 
beautiful angel. Instantly the picture creates a 
sensation.) 

ScRiBBLETON — (jubilant) There! What did 
I tell you? Was it not an honor to be chosen as 
the model for a picture like that? Is it not a most 
beautiful picture ? Is it not a masterpiece ? Could 
it have been painted by anyone except a great 
artist? And aside from that, is there one among 
you who is so base that he could find fault with 
it from the standpoint of morality? Is there any- 
thing low, is there anything vicious, is there any- 
thing indecent about it? Can you conceive of 
anything purer than an angel? Therefore, my 
dear friends, the lady who was so honored, so 
signally honored, to be chosen as a model for that 
angel's face, should go down on her knees and offer 
up thanks for the good fortune that has befallen 
her. 

{During the recital of this speech, Paynter throws 
out his chest and puts on a good deal of dignity, 
assuming the air of a great man who has been woe- 
fully injured and misunderstood. As Scribbleton 
finishes, Paynter grasps his hand. Everybody 
then crowds about the artist.) 

George — (offering his hand to Paynter) My 
dear sir, I have wronged you, cruelly, cruelly 
wronged you! But I did not understand. Do 



86 THE GIRL IN THE PICTURE 

not think me ungrateful. I realize now what an 
honor you have bestowed on my little sweetheart, 
and I'm sure she appreciates it, too. 

Miss Blair — ^Oh, indeed I do! You were 
very, very good to select my face for such a pic- 
ture. Please forgive me, too. 

Mrs. Blair — What a dear man you were to 
have chosen my daughter! I hope you will for- 
give us all. 

Paynter — {smiling at everybody most graciously^ 
and still with his chest puffed out) You overwhelm 
me! Oh, I could suffer much, much more, if but 
to obtain a moment like this ! Indeed I shall for- 
give you, with all my heart. Bob, I think that 
you, at least, will agree with me when I say that 
it is not best for a man that the truth should al- 
ways be known. 

Mrs. Black — {pointing to the pictures on the 
wall) But what about those pictures? 

ScRiBBLETON — Oh, dou't worry, ladies, don't 
worry. When they're finished, those on the right 
will be cherubim, and those on the left, seraphim. 

Mrs. Backslap — {holding out her arms to Inez) 
My dear, sweet child, how I've wronged you, too! 
Please forgive me. {Inez rushes to her arms) But 
why in the world, child, did you say that my 
husband took your picture in this studio? 

Miss Blair — {disengaging herself, goes over to 
the deacon and takes a photograph from his breast 
pocket, much to that gentleman s surprise) There's 
the photograph that he took. 

Mrs. Backslap — Why, Josiah, why didn't you 
say something about it? 

Deacon Backslap — Why, I certainly would if 



ACT II 87 

I'd known about — er — er — if I'd known — er — 
how to get a word in edgeways. 

Mrs. Backslap — {putting her arms about her 
husband's neck) My poor, dear husband, what a 
martyr you've been! 

{Scribbleton puts his arm about Jeannette's waist; 
George Backslap embraces Inez.) 

Scribbleton — And now that everybody's hap- 
py, I wish to annomice that Jeannette and I are 
going to be married to-morrow, here in front of 
the painted angel, and you're all invited — to do 
the same ! 

(CURTAIN) 



